


Two of a Kind

by rababies



Category: Joker (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Awkward Flirting, Coming Untouched, Confessions, Cunnilingus, Developing Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Gaslighting, Gun Kink, Hybristophilia, Masturbation, Mental Health Issues, Morning After, Morning Sex, Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Reader-Insert, References to Depression, Slow Burn, Vaginal Sex, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:47:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21544003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rababies/pseuds/rababies
Summary: A little kindness goes a long way.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck/You
Comments: 31
Kudos: 220





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This movie and his character hit so close to home, I just had to write something.
> 
> Reader works as an escort in Gotham to make ends meet. She sees her own struggles and heartache reflected back in Arthur and can't get him out of her head. Literally just "ok but what if someone got obsessed with Arthur instead?" bc I am living that as we speak... but who in this tag isn't tbh

You remembered the first time you met him.

It had been a shitty day, for lack of better words. Everything about it was pure shit.

Business was not doing well. That day, one of your best paying clients cancelled on you. You were pinching every penny and had been depending on that cash. Finding work had been slow as of late; people just didn’t have the funds to spend on frivolous things like companionship when they could get a cheaper girl on the corner. You thought about hitting the streets yourself, but the recent wave of crime scared you away from it.

It was days like that one that were the darkest. Work was your distraction. When you were with a client, you immersed yourself in the persona. You could pretend everything was alright. You were able to live the fantasy that you weren’t so alone and miserable for a few hours at a time. You could trick yourself into thinking someone cared about you.

Things had been so tight that you hadn’t had a chance to take care of yourself. Alcohol was cheaper than your medication- and you were looking forward to the stiff drink that awaited you when you got home. Maybe you’d drink enough to pass out. Sleep was hard to muster when you could hear the comings and goings of every neighbor in your complex. You’d rather be distracted by them than the thoughts of worthlessness that lurked in the recesses of your mind. 

When it rains, it pours. And that night, it literally poured. A storm picked up as you trudged back home. If you hailed a cab, you’d be short on rent. You were soaked to the bone by the time you made it in the lobby. You were worn out, both emotionally and physically exhausted. And all you wanted to do was take a shower and cry.

You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the glass door of the front office as you passed by. Your hair was a drenched mess. Your makeup had smeared and ran down your face. The gaudy dress you wore looked ridiculous on a woman so disheveled. You felt like a fucking clown.

Your heels clacked with every hurried step across the grimy tile floor towards the run-down elevator. This building was awful. You longed to afford something nicer, but in Gotham it was about as good as it got for the working class. Maybe, years ago, this would have been a decent place to call home. You wanted to believe it had not always been this way. Things had never been perfect, but lately it seemed like the most destitute place on earth. You’d love to leave, but where would you go? Gotham was a hole of which one could not simply crawl out.

You saw the elevator door shut as you approached, and had already prepared to miss it. However, a foot stopped it from closing. Your clattering footsteps must have caught the attention of the person inside. Sliding into the lift, you pressed the button for your floor and stepped off to the side. You kept your head down, too embarrassed by your current state to even look the other person in the eyes as you muttered a thanks.

The door creaked closed and the cart jostled as the squeaky pulleys set it in motion. It chimed every 30 seconds or so, whenever it reached the next floor. It only made it past the fifth floor before abruptly coming to a stop. The lights flickered and you sighed. 

For the first minute or two, you weren’t overly concerned. You pressed the emergency button a few times, noting that it never lit up. Sure, you were inconvenienced, but not surprised. Folks had been complaining to maintenance about the rickety lift forever. As the three-minute mark crept up, you began to get huffy. It was as cold in the elevator as it was outside. Your clothes hadn’t dried any; you shivered and your teeth chattered. You began to fear that you would be stuck in here tonight.

“Fuck,” you whimpered. “ _Fuck_!”

You kicked at the door in desperation, chanting the swear as you grew more upset. It was not like you actually believed your vain attempts could kickstart the elevator, but your frustration could no longer be contained. You kicked at the door until you wore yourself out. After your tantrum, you slumped against the side of the lift. You buried your face in your hands, trying to breathe to keep from bursting into tears.

Laughter filled the emptiness of the elevator, startling you out of your thoughts. You had forgotten all about the man who was in there with you. Up until that moment, he had been so quiet. Now, however, his piercing cackles were enough to annoy you. Perhaps you deserved it after throwing the fit you just threw, but you were way past the point of pleasantries. This man was laughing at you and you could not stand it.

“Something funny, jackass?” you sneered, casting a dirty look over in his direction.

Your words only served as fuel, causing his laughter to increase. His cackles sounded almost painful as he shook his head and tried to choke them down. He may have been laughing, but his eyes pleaded with you as he felt around in his pockets. You watched him with apprehension. One hand in your own coat, your fingers coiled around your trusty pocket knife should he try anything.

Eventually, he fished something out of his pockets. It looked like a card. He offered it to you, and you accepted it with caution. Managing to pry your suspicious eyes away from him, you glimpsed at the laminated slip in your hands.

 _Forgive my Laughter: I have a Condition_.

Your heart sunk to your stomach. There was more on the back. You flipped it around. Your eyes skimmed the explanation of his medical condition, stemming from neurological problems. 

“ _Oh._ ”

You glanced up from the card, straight into his sad, sunken eyes. The laughter had ceased. A silence fell between the two of you while a dull ache began to grow within your chest. He was just as upset as you were, he just displayed it differently. The idea that he had to go through this with every stranger was devastating.

“Shit, I’m so sorry! I-I… ah, you know how people are around here. I just thought…” Thoroughly mortified at yourself, you averted your gaze to the ground. You trembled as you gave the card back to him. “Well, it’s nothing.” Your tone lacked that bite it had moments ago. “There’s no excuse for the way I acted. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” The poor man’s voice was hoarse, his condition likely putting a strain on his vocal cords. You could not look up. Your eyes stung with humiliation. Tears threatened to spill; you blinked them back. Now you seemed like the jackass. You were not that kind of person. You wanted to assure him you were not that heartless, but felt you had already done too much damage.

The elevator could not have picked a better time to crank back to life and lurched upwards. The moment the doors flung open, you rushed out without even checking the floor, nearly knocking over a person who had been standing in the way. You did not stop until you reached the end of the hall, finding sanctuary in the old stairwell. Once inside, you collapsed on a step and sobbed. All the bottled-up stress of the day had finally taken its toll on you. You were unsure how long it took before you were able to collect yourself. You were so exhausted you could hardly trudge the rest of the way up to your apartment, but you’d be damned before you ever step foot in that elevator again.


	2. Chapter 2

Days passed. They turned into weeks. You had not stopped beating yourself up over that interaction. You had never seen that man before; you told yourself you’d likely never see him again.

But you were wrong.

You had just wrapped up the last of your sessions for the day. It wasn’t terrible, about as pleasant as knowingly fooling around with an old married businessman could be. The whole time your mind was elsewhere. You wondered what it would be like to be rich like him, to not have to worry about money or morals. You tried to fathom what it must be like having someone at home that you could be with, while having enough wealth to waste it on some newer model for a mere few hours of conversation and copulation.

This job sometimes allowed you to play the part. You accompanied men like him to fancy galas and social events. You had rubbed elbows with some of Gotham’s Elite, even the Wayne’s themselves. It made you sick, to be honest. You did not show it, but you were never comfortable surrounded by all that glitz and glamour. The taste of filet mignon and caviar was divine, but you found yourself disgusted by it. Perhaps it repulsed you because you were expected to never, under any circumstances, finish your plate; it would be poor manners and embarrass the man you were escorting. The homeless and hungry would never cross these people’s minds. But they were all you could think about while watching their waiters toss away half-eaten food that cost roughly the equivalent of a poor man’s groceries for a month. At the end of those nights, you were bitter as you walked home to your apartment. The downtrodden streets of Gotham were a stark contrast to the high-life you had played a part of only hours before and blocks away. Those people would be sleeping off their hangovers in comfortable penthouses, and you would be lying restless in your ratty one-room flat.

As much as you despised the lifestyle, it was guys like him who paid your bills. Money was money. You were able to suck it up to make ends meet. Your time with the businessman that day brought in a decent amount, enough to splurge. You could finally afford a much-needed trip to the pharmacy.

You didn’t have to wait around long for your prescription. It had been ready since your last appointment a week ago, but you hadn’t had to funds to come pick it up yet. After purchasing a few other things, you were on your way to the exit. Out the corner of your eye, you thought you saw that man from the elevator. At first, you told yourself it was just someone who resembled him. You considered that your mind was playing tricks on you, trying to guilt you again. Ducking into an aisle, you gave the man a closer look. It had to be him. Your glimpse of him in that elevator was brief, but he had a very distinct look about him that you’d never forget. He had dark brown hair, curls soft and fluffy. A strong nose and bold eyebrows. His baggy clothes hung off his thin frame. In your opinion, he could be considered handsome. Perhaps a bit pitiful-looking, but handsome regardless.

You carefully approached him. He was browsing the magazine rack. The heavy scent of cigarette smoke wafted towards you. Yeah.. it had to be the same guy. You felt terrible to interrupt him, but you’d feel worse if you did not speak to him. He did not look up as you stood by his side, so you touched his arm. “Um, excuse me.”

The sudden interaction caused him to flinch. Like a deer in the headlights, he was stunned by you.

“Hi. Sorry if this is weird,” you said. Nausea crept up. You felt very silly and irritating all of a sudden. Still, you had made it this far. You had to power through. “I just noticed you on my way out and had to apologize again for the other day. In the elevator. I was having a bad day, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m so sorry, again.”

He blinked at you before responding. “You… noticed me?” There was a slight crack in his voice, and a hint of disbelief. It seemed like he missed the point you were trying to make, but it didn’t much matter.

“Yeah,” you continued, wringing your hands. “And like… I bet it must be really difficult, having to deal with misunderstandings like that on a daily basis… Y’know, because of…” Your voice trailed off, fearing that you were starting to sound rude by bringing up his condition. “I’m sorry to make things harder on you. It’s been tearing me up ever since.”

“Don’t worry about it anymore. I had already forgotten,” he mumbled. That was the first time you saw the man crack a smile. Never before had a smile warmed your soul as much as his did. Even though he tried to hide it by looking down, you could make it out clear as day. When he met your gaze again; there was a distinct sparkle amidst the gloominess in his eyes. Something new was present, something that resembled joy. “And thank you. It… means a lot to hear that.”

You opened your mouth to say more, but the pharmacist's voice rang out, interrupting the stale silence of the store. “ _Fleck… Arthur Fleck…_ ”

His head swiveled in the direction of the counter, then back towards you. “Oh,” he said. “That’s me.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, flashing him a smile of your own. He waved before turning away to speak with the pharmacist.

 _Arthur_. It suited him.

You found yourself lingering as he picked up his medication. Loneliness gnawed at you. The idea of going back to your cold apartment and being by yourself weighed you down. It was wrong to judge others, but you believed he felt just as alone as you did. Maybe he could use some company, too. It would be nice to be around someone who wasn’t paying you by the hour for a change.

You patiently waited until he was done with his transaction. You called to him as he reached the exit.

“Ah… Arthur?”

His attention snapped in your direction. “Yes, ma’am?”

A blush tinted your cheeks from that response. The manners were cute and unexpected from a man his age. “Sorry, again. I… was just wondering. Are you headed back to the apartments, by chance?”

“I am.”

“Oh, me too.” You paused, hoping he would offer that you join him. Realizing your invite would never come, you decided to end the awkward silence that kept you holding your breath. “Um, mind if I walk with you?”

Arthur’s eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion. “You want to walk back with me?” Most men would have insisted. Something told you that Arthur was not most men, and for that you found yourself drawn to him.

“Well, yes.”

A short, throaty laugh escaped him, causing you to frown. Thinking back to his card, you realized you must have made him uncomfortable.

“I-I mean, if you’d rather not, I understand,” you rambled, mentally berating yourself. Maybe he was not just awkward or shy; maybe he legitimately was not interested in being bothered by you. You didn’t know why you thought any different. Why would he want anything to do with you after the bitch you were to him the other day anyway? “I just figure, it’s crazy out there. Might be safer this way, but-...”

“No,” he spoke up. The curls around his face swayed as he shook his head. “I don’t mind. I just… guess I didn’t know you if you were serious or if you…” His voice trailed off and he rubbed at his nose, chuckling a little under his breath. “Sure. Let’s walk.”

The first part of your journey together was uneventful. Not a word was shared as you weaved your way through evening traffic. It felt less like the two of you were walking together and more like you happened to be walking in the same direction.

You had reached a part of town where the crowds had thinned. There were not as many horns honking or sirens blaring. It was Arthur who said something first. His words were a bit jumbled, not to mention kind of quiet. You could not for the life of you understand what he was trying to say.

“Pardon?”

“I asked if you got anything good.” You couldn’t tell if he sounded annoyed or if you were far too sensitive to the blunt tone of his voice.

“Oh! Sorry, um, no. Just my prescriptions,” you admitted, holding up your own bag. “Makeup and cigarettes, too.”

“What for?”

“My medicine? Well, I take birth control, and, uh… anti-depressants,” you started, spilling all your business out to this stranger. Most would jeer or joke that you took ‘crazy pills’, but for some reason you felt comfortable enough to share with him.

“Sorry, I-I meant the makeup, actually,” he said. Color rose to his cheeks. “Why bother wearing it? You’re very pretty.”

“Oh! My bad.” You weren’t sure how to proceed. You were flattered by his compliment, even if you did not exactly share the sentiment. The fact that he chose ‘pretty’ instead of ‘hot’ or ‘sexy’ filled you with butterflies. After careful consideration, you told him, “I guess it helps me with my job. I feel better when I have it on.”

“That makes sense,” stated Arthur. “Thinking about it, I guess I do too.”

Unsure you heard him correctly, you stopped in your tracks. He kept walking, and you had to jog a second to close the distance. “You… You do too?” you said inquisitively when you caught back up.

“I wear makeup for my job too,” said Arthur, looking back to you. “I’m a clown. For like parties, events and things.” 

“Oh! Really?” Your curiosity was piqued. You had never met someone who was a real clown before. You assumed they travelled around with a circus. “That’s interesting. I never would have guessed.”

“Yeah,” he said nonchalantly, exhaling a plume of smoke. He paused to take another long drag from his cigarette. “Well, I am right now. I’m hoping to be a comedian. I do stand-up sometimes.”

It was difficult to imagine Arthur standing on a stage, but perhaps that was his element. You pictured him in front of a crowd, telling jokes and laughing genuine laughter. That was a side of him you would not mind experiencing. “That so? I’d like to see you someday.”

“You should come next time.”

“Sure! I’ll be there,” you promised. “Just let me know when.”

Arthur hummed in acknowledgment between puffs of smoke. “How about you?” he asked. “What do you do?”

You groaned internally. This conversation was something you were dreading. “I’m an escort.”

“Escort?” he repeated.

“I… Oh, God, um...” You tried to consider the best way to put this without being crude. Your eyes focused on the asphalt beneath you. “I get paid by men to spend time with them and… do them favors sometimes.”

Beside you, you could hear a soft chuckle. You did not know if it was real or not. Arthur’s voice was a touch quieter as he asked, “You mean like a prostitute?”

With a defeated sigh, you responded, “Kinda.” Coming from him, those words stung. You could sense he didn’t mean anything by it, but the stigma hurt you. Even if it was basically the truth, you did not want him to think any less of you. It bothered you that you did not exactly know why you cared so much. So many other strangers already knew, so why did it matter that he did? 

“Wanna hear a joke?”

Just like that, he changed the subject. Maybe he sensed your discomfort, or maybe he was uncomfortable himself. You wished you could read his mind. 

“Sure.”

“Two suicidal people meet in a bar…” he said without missing a beat. “One says to the other ‘Y’know, we should hang sometime.’”

That was awful. And you felt awful that you snorted in laughter. That type of humor would not go over well in a crowd, but truth be told, you did not have room to scold. You also relied on morbid humor to get through how terrible things were as of late.

You glanced up and caught Arthur gauging your reaction. He looked pleased, almost triumphant that his joke went over with you. Cigarette butt discarded; his fists were in his pockets. His focused shifted from you to the path ahead, and he frowned. Your eyes followed his, forward and up. You had reached the stairs.

The worst part of the way home were those damn stairs. There were so many steps. You had tried counting them on occasion, but got so exhausted you lost count every time. They felt endless. You had learned to pad your shoes to prevent the blisters caused by these stairs alone.

The conversation died while the two of you ascended the flight. Talking would make breathing that much heavier. Even though neither of you spoke, it wasn’t silent. Arthur hummed to himself. It sounded like an old, familiar melody, but you couldn’t quite make out the tune. You found yourself walking closer to him to listen in, so close that your knuckles brushed. You felt compelled to reach for his hand and hold it. The fact that he was clutching his own prescription bag kept you from embarrassing yourself like that.

Before you knew it, you and Arthur reached the top. The most hated part of your routine wasn’t near as bad with him there. You found yourself disappointed that there weren’t more stairs to climb, knowing that soon you would be parting ways. The apartment building you shared came into sight and only intensified that sorrow.

That shabby building was in front of you in no time, and you hated it more than ever. The lobby was as cold and unwelcoming as it had always been to you. You resented it knowing that in a few minutes you’d be alone again.

You’d enjoy it while it lasted. You followed Arthur to the mailboxes. You couldn’t help but make a mental note of his apartment number as he opened his. He sighed when he saw the emptiness within. 

“My mother’s always sending out these damn letters,” he explained to you. “She’s crazy for Thomas Wayne. Keeps insisting I check like he’s going to write back.”

“Thomas Wayne?” you scoffed, folding your arms. You’d grown tired of listening to your wealthier clients praise that man. “He’s really not all that.”

He looked to you and tilted his head in curiosity. “You know him too?”

“Met him for a few seconds. I wasn’t too impressed.”

“Maybe he used to be different. She worked for him a long time ago,” said Arthur. “She thinks he’s going to be mayor.”

“Ugh.” You rolled your eyes. “Lord have mercy on us all if that happens. I can’t _wait_ for Gotham to get worse.”

Arthur chuckled at your snark and closed the mailbox. You trailed beside him as he walked to the elevator doors. You noted that his laughter since the pharmacy had sounded authentic and that made you feel a bit better.

“Going up?” he asked, pressing the button.

“I’ve actually been taking the stairs,” you admitted and gestured down the hall. “Don’t really trust that thing.”

“Oh,” said Arthur. “Right, I understand.”

“See you later, I guess?”

He nodded, seeming a little sad that you were parting ways. That only made you feel worse. You had enjoyed your time with him tonight. You turned towards the stairwell.

“Hey, wait…”

His voice was so quiet, you almost missed it. You spun back around to face him. Taking a few steps away from the elevator, he closed the distance between you.

“Sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t think I ever got your name.”

You formally introduced yourself. With a big smile, he repeated your name back to you in such a way that made you feel butterflies.

“I’ll see you around,” he said with a wave.

“Of course!” You waved back at him enthusiastically. “Goodnight, Arthur!”


	3. Chapter 3

Arthur was on Cloud Nine that night. He’d had fantasies that didn’t play out as nice as this evening.

It was a lie that he had forgotten about that day in the elevator. He wrote about it, about _you_ in his journal after it happened. That pretty girl who was so upset. He had seen you around once or twice. You stood out to him. You always dressed fancy, so dolled up and put together. Sometimes he wondered if you were lost. A lady like you didn’t seem to belong somewhere like this. He made up a backstory for you, like he did for many people. To him, you were an actress. You were into method acting, and you were only living here to prepare for a role. (Though, he’d never know how much you relied on playing a part to keep pressing on.)

That interaction weeks ago struck a chord with Arthur. Most people he passed only ever showed apathy. It jarred him to see such strong, raw emotions. In that elevator, you sounded hurt and scared. He related. Sometimes he wondered if he was the only one who felt the way he did. You shattered that illusion and proved him otherwise. You were human, too. _Emotions_ were human. And though you tried to be cruel at first to his reaction, he sensed that you didn’t mean it. You _were_ an actress, after all.

When he showed you his card, you believed him. You didn’t have to say anything for him to know that. He could read the way you looked at him; it wasn’t the look he was usually given. You understood. It was like you were the only person in this world who understood.

And tonight? Wow. It was like a soft and fuzzy blanket had been placed on him. The cold, empty feeling he was used to wasn’t there. He felt different emotions… Ones that he never knew existed. His fingers still tingled with the sensation of yours brushing against them. His chest felt warm and full. Was this happiness? He wasn’t sure, but he liked it. He waltzed down the hallway of the eighth floor, much to the distain of his neighbors. Nothing could break his stride. He beamed as he unlocked the door to his mother’s apartment and made his way inside.

“Happy?” Penny called out from the other room before he even had a chance to drop his keys. “Is that you?”

“Yes, mother,” he replied in a sing-song voice. He peeled off his coat and tossed his bag on the kitchen counter.

“Thank goodness!” she exclaimed. “Do you know what time it is? I was so worried!”

Arthur walked into the living area to find her in a chair, where she had likely sat all day long. He planted a kiss on her forehead. “I told you I was going to be late tonight,” he sympathetically explained. “I had to run errands after work.”

She moped. “It usually doesn’t take that long. You missed Murray, y’know.”

“I’m sorry, ma,” he said. “Have you had dinner?”

A nod was his mother’s only response.

“Good.” He leaned in to help her to her feet. “Then let’s get you ready for bed.”

Arthur assisted her through their nightly routine. Penny babbled on about the headlines of the day and the tonight’s guests on the Murray Franklin show. If he were quizzed on it, he would fail. He barely listened, he could only think of you. He wondered what you were up to right now, if you felt as good as he did.

When Arthur finally got his mother to sleep, he switched into his night clothes and sat in dim dining area with that worn notebook of his. He cracked it open and stared down at the blank page, smiling and tapping the pen against his chin. How on earth would he be able to put how he felt into words? With a dreamy sigh, he lowered the pen to the paper.

 _I made a friend today_.

A friend. _His_ friend. _You_ were _his_ friend. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a friend, if ever. Maybe when he was in school.

A blush rose to his cheeks and chewed on his nail. He wrote your name down on the next line… At least he hoped he did. He wasn’t the best at spelling, but he sounded it out and tried his best. It looked okay to him. Maybe he’d ask you next time.

Next time…

He’d be so glad to see you again. He knew he’d have to think of a good joke to impress you. You were funny, too. It was an accomplishment to make you laugh.

The rest of the page filled up naturally. Arthur wrote about everything- what you talked about, the jokes you cracked, how you smelled, what you wore, _everything_. He wanted to make sure every detail of this night was documented. He never wanted to forget how you made him feel. A heat pooled in his abdomen with every word that ended up on the page. Without breaking concentration, his free hand absently reached down to touch himself. He was hard. You made him hard. He rushed to finish up what he had to say and shut the journal. Cutting off the lights, he walked into the living room and sunk down onto the sofa. What a day.

Arthur awoke to the sound of birds chirping and the sun shining directly on his face. One fist rubbed the sleep from his eyes, the other was still inside his pants. He grinned, fondly remembering what he passed out thinking about, and removed it to stretch. He’d have to finish what he started in the shower.

The lukewarm water didn’t bother him this morning. He was so hot that it felt more refreshing than anything. His skin was burning from thoughts of you. His body ached for relief.

“‘ _Oh Arthur_!’” he whispered in falsetto, curling his fingers around his erection. “‘ _You’re so big_.’”

“Yeah,” he replied to himself with a sigh. “Do you like it?”

“ _Mhm_ …”

He began to stroke himself. He shut his eyes and allowed himself to picture you were the one doing it for him instead. You were a… what was that word again? He forgot. But it meant you were probably good at sex. He’d like to have sex with you. Too bad he probably couldn’t afford something like that. At least he had this. That was good enough for him.

“ _You feel so good, Arthur_ …”

“Thanks,” he grunted. “You do, too.”

He wondered if you were good like those girls in the movies he’d seen downtown. You were probably better. He thought back to some of the stuff they did. He wanted to try that with you. He’d heard about friends like this before. Friends with benefits, if he remembered correctly. Being friends was a benefit, he thought. Maybe you could become friends with more benefits.

“ _We should do this more often. All the time_.”

“We… We should.”

Arthur bit his lip and stifled a groan. He was getting close now. You were too. You were so beautiful on top of him. So pretty and so soft. He loved watching your breasts sway with each movement. He pumped his fist harder as the water cascading down his back began to cool. He flipped between a few different fantasies as he tried to get off. Each of them had one thing in common.

“ _I love you, Arthur!_ ”

His body tensed up as he reached climax. The thought of you uttering those words was enough to send him over the edge. Your name spilled from his lips as he splattered his seed on the shower floor. He stood limp and breathless, watching his cum swirl down the drain. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

“I love you, too.”

By the time he actually got himself cleaned up, the water was cold as ice. He dressed himself in many layers to regulate his body temperature. He stumbled into the kitchen and shoved a few pills in his mouth. He didn’t have much of an appetite, but he fixed breakfast for his mother. Judging by the distant sound of a TV set, she was likely up already watching the morning news.

Arthur walked into her room once the food was done. He was right. Her eyes drifted from the television to him.

“Morning, ma,” he said. He placed the TV tray over her lap and sat the bowl of oatmeal on top. “Careful, it’s kinda hot.”

“Thank you,” said Penny. She picked up her spoon and brought it to her mouth, only to pause and look up at her son. “I didn’t get a chance to ask last night, but did you check-?”

“Yes,” replied Arthur, knowing where the question was headed. “It was empty.”

Penny sighed, placing the utensil down. “Are you sure you’re sending them? He should have answered by now.”

“Yes, mom. I’ve sent every last one of them.” He seated himself in the chair beside the bed. “Do you really believe he’s going to respond?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t he?” she assured him. “Thomas Wayne is a good man. If he saw them, he’d write back. Someone must be tossing them out.”

Arthur thought back to last night, to what you said about Thomas Wayne. You were so frank about it. Not many people in Gotham had the gall to bad-mouth someone so universally adored. He admired your honesty. It was amusing to him. He softly chuckled and shook his head.

“What’s gotten into you?” Penny asked indignantly.

“Well,” he started, pausing to giggle again. He managed to choke it back and look at his mother. “It’s just, my friend said he’s not all that.”

“Your friend?” She scoffed and crossed her arms. “Who’s your friend?”

With great pride, he spoke your name. It was invigorating for him to be able to say it out loud.

“Is that a girl?” said Penny with a gasp. “Is that where you were last night?”

Arthur, still smirking, grew quiet.

“Happy, have you been fooling around?”

“What? No!” he exclaimed. “We were both at the pharmacy and I walked her home… She lives here, too.”

“Oh, God.” Penny wailed. She threw a hand to her forehead as if she was about to faint. “I can’t believe you were off with some girl, leaving me home to worry myself sick over you.”

“We haven’t _done_ anything, mom. I swear.”

“It’s plain as day, you’re blushing!” insisted Penny. “I don’t know her, but she’s wrong. And she sounds like trouble to me. A girl like that probably just wants to make a fool of you.”

Arthur’s heart crumpled. Though it had only been a matter of seconds since it disappeared, the smile that he hadn’t been able to wipe off his face seemed like a distant memory.

“Why would you say that?” His voice cracked as sorrow set back in.

“Oh, Happy…” Penny frowned and held out her hand for him. “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up. People are cruel. You’re such a good boy; you’ve got a good heart. Everyone knows. I don’t want some girl taking advantage of you because of it.”

Maybe she was right. It did feel too good to be true. It’d be a joke for you to be seen with him. It was silly of him to dream. His heart was broken, but he couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s not funny,” Penny scolded.

She didn’t get it. She never did.


	4. Chapter 4

That innocent walk home with Arthur somehow blossomed into a full-blown obsession for you. From the moment you woke to the time you drifted to sleep he consumed your thoughts. You felt silly for how attached you got over one simple interaction. But he was so nice, so sweet, so _handsome_. He was unlike anyone you’d ever met. You were enamored.

Your eyes stayed peeled, always on the lookout and hoping you’d run into him. Some mornings, when you had no plans, you’d sit by your window to see if you could catch him leaving for work. It was a pity his schedule didn’t seem to be fixed. You idly checked the phone book for comedy clubs, wondering which ones he was likely to perform at. You’d check their stand-up bookings, disappointed that his name never appeared on the lists. There’d be evenings you’d linger outside the lobby, enjoying a cigarette after work and hoping maybe you’d catch him on his way in. Whatever you tried didn’t work. You still hadn’t managed to bump into him again.

During time spent with your clients, you found your mind wandering to him. Sex for you had become meaningless; nothing more but way to make ends meet. However, the fantasy of doing it with him instead, the thought of holding his slender body against yours and making him feel good, it was enough to reawaken that desire for intimacy. You pictured being with Arthur when you closed your eyes. You imagined his fingers were the ones digging into your hips, holding you in place. You could see the contrast of the soft curls of his hair cascading around the sharp angles of his face. Those brilliant green eyes looking at you, a fond smile on his face- that’s how you wanted him to be.

It was rare for you to orgasm. You had become a professional at faking it. Yet you found yourself getting close for the first time in years. While you let some sleazy Wall Street guy thrust into you, you found yourself biting your lip to keep from moaning out Arthur’s name. When you caught yourself, you wanted to laugh. It was funny to you. Maybe this man had money, maybe he had it all, but he wasn’t Arthur. And he’d _never_ be able to buy Arthur’s charm. You were sure it’d drive men like this mad to know you felt that way.

These thoughts went on for weeks. Even though you hadn’t crossed him again, your feelings never faded. You couldn’t take it anymore. You had to be with him. He was worth the risk.

One lazy Sunday, you decided to take the plunge. You managed to save enough to afford an extra trip to the grocery store. (So _maybe_ you laid it on a little thick with your clients, lately. Arthur had put you in such a good mood that it paid off!) You purchased everything one would need for a hearty lasagna, with breadsticks, salad, and a decent wine to go with it. A good portion of your afternoon was spent cooking and tidying your apartment. Once everything seemed perfect, you got all dolled up just like you were going to meet up with a client.

You walked downstairs and found the door to his place. Gathering your wits and hoping you remembered the right number, you knocked. After hearing motion on the other side, you smoothed down the skirt of your dress and took a deep breath. The door cracked open, and one of his unmistakable green eyes peered out at you.

“Hi, Arthur,” you said. “Long time no see.”

Your name fell from his lips in disbelief. He cautiously glanced over his shoulder, then opened the door a little wider. “What are you doing here?”

He didn’t look well. In fact, he looked worse off than that first time you met him. He seemed more reserved than he was before.

“I didn’t know if you were busy…” Though you tried to act like you did for work, that confidence just wasn’t there. Your voice waivered as you spoke to him. “But I made dinner and wanted to know if you’d like to join me?”

Arthur straightened up, and looked longingly at you.

“It gets so lonely around here,” you rambled, filling the awkward silence. You rubbed at your elbow and lowered your eyes. “I figure we could both use the company.”

“I’m sorry.” He apologized in a shaky whisper. You looked up and saw the pain in his eyes. He closed them and solemnly shook his head. “I can’t.”

“What? Why?” you asked. “Is something wrong?”

Arthur’s upper lip twitched. “I… Hah… I just… I _can’t_.” A laughing fit started up, causing him to wince.

“Oh,” you replied. You were on the verge of devastation, but more so worried about him. “Can I at least bring you a plate, then? Or… or maybe you’d like to come by another night?”

He scrubbed his face as his head turned from side to side.

“Is everything okay? Is there anything I can do?”

His cackles were chilling now. In frustration, he hit the side of his head against the door frame a few times. Eyes wide, you took a step back.

“ _Why_ are you being so nice to me?” he asked through broken, nervous laughter. “Why are you doing this? Is this a trick? A game? Are you trying to make a _fool_ of me?”

“What!? No! How could you say that?” You were appalled at his harsh words. Tears spilled from your eyes. “Arthur… Who needs a reason to be nice? It’s the right thing to do. And you deserve it. And, well, I…” Your mouth grew dry, but you had to spit it out. “I _like_ you. I really like you and I like to see you smile.”

Arthur’s pose stiffened. A look of bewilderment crossed his face. “What?”

“I like you, Arthur,” you repeated. Out loud, those words sounded so juvenile. You could feel how flushed your face had become. “Even though we really don’t know each other, I like being around you, and would enjoy seeing you more often and getting to know you better. Isn’t that enough?”

Those words seemed to break him. Arthur covered his face. His wheezing laughter sounded like it was smothering him. Moisture welled along his bottom lashes. You reached out to comfort him, but he brushed your hand away.

“You're lying.” His sorrow turned to anger. There was a darkness brewing in his eyes. He shook his head slowly. His voice was cold, distant. “I don’t believe you.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” You closed the distance between the two of you and buried your face against his chest. Even as you clutched his shirt and sobbed, he stood unmoved. Yet he didn’t back away or pry you off of him. “How can I prove it to you? What would make you see I _want_ to be with you?”

“That’s not true,” he said. “It can’t be true.” At this point, it sounded like he was trying to convince both you and himself. “There’s no reason for you to feel that way about me.”

“But it is,” you sniveled. “It is…”

He sighed your name and apologized again. You felt the weight of his hand against the small of your back. The gesture was oddly comforting. He pressed his lips on the top of your head before he pushed you away.

“Please… Just go.”

Though it hurt, you did as he asked. You could feel his sad eyes watching as you dragged yourself down the hall. That gaze didn’t falter until you entered the stairwell. You knew there was more to this than he’d tell you. Maybe you came on too strong, maybe it was your work, or maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.

That was the second time you cried on those stairs.


	5. Chapter 5

Days passed without seeing him. You no longer bothered looking. Work kept you occupied during the day; booze filled the void at night. You did not know it was possible feel worse than you did prior to meeting him, and you wished you could have stayed ignorant to that. Before, you had no idea what you were missing. You’d never felt the warmth of hope, the radiance of joy that came with a possibility that you may have found the one. Arthur was never even yours, but your soul treated his rejection as though you lost the biggest part of yourself. You’d give anything to trade your broken heart for the one that had never known that kind of pain. You longed to be numb again.

Time was fleeting. Each day melded together. You weren’t certain if it had been a few days or many weeks. It didn’t matter. Nothing did.

  
One particularly desolate night, a pounding on your door tore you from the restless nap you were not even aware you were taking. You leapt from the couch in a panic, rushing to the door to see what was so urgent. Peering through the peephole and still delusional from sleep, the face of a clown on the other side of the door nearly gave you a heart attack. Soon your senses returned, and you realized that clown was Arthur.

Your heart raced as you wondered what to do. You wanted to walk back to the couch and pretend you were not home. You thought about saving yourself the pain and embarrassment of facing him again after spilling your heart only to turned down. Yet even as upset as you were, you could not find it in you to ignore him. A heat blossomed within your chest. It was undeniable how happy it made you to see him. You were surely a fool, no doubts about it. With your heart overpowering your mind for control of your actions, the latch on your door became unlocked.

The moment you cracked open the door, Arthur forced himself inside. With one arm, he pulled you close and the other slammed the door shut. Had it not been for those stunning green eyes, you would not believe it was the same man. Those familiar eyes that were usually so sad smoldered with desire. A passion and fire had been born within him. You had so many questions, so much to say to him. Before you could get a word out, his lips were on yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you eased into his firm embrace. All thoughts left you as he made your dreams come true. He soon had your back against the wall. His tongue slithered between your lips and probed yours. You were overwhelmed by him, by the taste of nicotine and his smoky scent. But you noticed something unfamiliar in the mix. A distinct smell of gunpowder was heavy, heavier than his typical smell of tobacco. As pleasant as the moment had been, you could not let it go on. You pushed him back.

“Arthur! What are you doing here?” you gasped. His kiss had left you short of breath. Keeping him at arm’s length, you got a better look at him. You noted his triumphant smirk and posture, but also blood.

“Oh, my God! A-Are you bleeding?” you asked. Eyes frantically scanned him; you did not see any wounds. “Arthur… What happened?”

“I missed you,” he said with no regards for your questions. Though his voice was husky and his words laced with lust, there was still a hint of that sweetness that you had grown to adore. He leaned back in, his mouth hovering above yours as he gazed at you through half-lidded eyes. “Do you still like me?”

“I… I do…” Hair, damp with sweat and greasepaint, clung to his forehead. You brushed it out of the way as you spoke to him. “Arthur, I like you a lot.”  
Arthur whispered your name, sending shivers down your spine. He grabbed your wrist, guided your hand down to the front of his pants, allowing you to feel his arousal. A pitiful noise escaped you as your hand brushed against his erection. Your attention flicked downwards, but he caught your chin and forced eye contact. “I like you, too.”

You could have melted right then. How could he make something so explicit sound adorable?  
Arthur began to kiss you again, with much more force than before. His arms were a vice, holding your body against his as he deepened the kiss. His stiff member rutted against you, driving you insane with need. Unable to bear it any longer, you whined against his lips. “Please, Arthur.”

He pulled back. His chest heaved with every breath. Through the thick paint, you could see his brows were furrowed. His hands had landed on your shoulders and he stared at you- deep into your eyes as though he was trying to gauge the truth. The dominance faltered; doubt crept up. “You… do you mean…?”

“Yes!” Your head bobbed. “I-I want to. I want _you_.”  
Arthur released a deep sigh of relief; his fingers combed through his mop. His eyes skimmed your living area before settling back on you. “Where do you sleep?”

“My bedroom…?”

“ _There_ ,” he practically purred. “Take me there.”

Taking him by the hand, you led him down the hallway. You did not know what came over him- what changed or why he decided to see you, but it was exciting. The way he acted when he barged in absolutely aroused you. The heat between your thighs grew slicker with every step you took. You had forgotten all about the blood, the dinner, everything. There was nothing in your mind except the fact that he was here with you. That he _wanted_ you.

“It’s kind of a mess in here. I never have visitors,” you explained as you opened the door. The room was dim. The only light came from an old lamp sitting on the nightstand. You’d prefer not to turn on the main fixture to keep a sliver of dignity; it looked tidier with the lights down.

The piles of laundry, clutter, and empty bottles did not seem to faze him in the slightest. He walked into the room, fingers ghosting along every piece of furniture and décor that he passed. He approached your unmade bed and laid a hand down on the blankets. “It’s soft,” he whispered. After kicking off his shoes, he settled down on the mattress. You watched as he familiarized himself with your room, taking in everything he saw. Picking up one of your pillows, he brought it close and held it to his chest. He lowered his nose to the pillowcase, careful not to smear face paint on the fabric. After a deep inhale, he giggled. “Smells just like you.” 

Still clutching your pillow, he ran his fingers along the bulge in his pants. He threw his head back and allowed a heady sigh to slip past his lips. For a moment, you wondered if he had forgotten you were present. Not that you minded. Seeing him so relaxed, his legs spread and pleasing himself on your bed, was a sight to behold. He then looked over in your direction and sat the pillow back down beside him. “Come here.”

The way his voice rumbled that command made your legs feel clumsy and weak. His tone made you briefly forget how to walk. Taking slow, careful steps, you crossed the room and joined him on the mattress. Arthur patted his thighs, signaling you to mount him. His hands found their way on your hips as you straddled his lap. His tongue flicked across his lower lip while he sized you up.

“Take off your clothes for me.”

Arthur’s words sent a wave of pleasure to your very core. You complied without protest. The sweater you wore was pulled over your head and dropped to the floor. Standing on your knees, you pushed your flannel pants and panties off and kicked them to the side. The last thing remaining on your body was your bra. Arthur chewed on his bottom lip as you reached behind your back to unclasp the hooks. You could feel his leg bouncing beneath you in anticipation. His eyes were glued on your chest, growing wider as you slowly pulled the straps past your shoulders. You removed the cups from your body and tossed the garment away.

Now completely nude before him, you awaited his next instruction. He leered at you through half-lidded eyes and slightly parted painted lips. You watched as his pupils scanned every inch of your naked form, and you began to feel hot under his scrutinizing gaze. 

Despite his display of newfound dominance, it seemed he was still uncertain about how to take things further. His hands hovered at your side. You could feel him trembling beneath you- likely from a cocktail of nerves, anticipation, and excitement. You decided to spare him the trouble and take the lead. Clasping your hands around his, you brought them back to your hips. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply before his touch roamed upwards. You leaned forward to give him more access and allow him to get more acquainted with your body.

Eventually, Arthur’s hands ended up on your chest. He cupped your breasts with utmost care. His bony fingers were frigid. Your nipples hardened at the pleasant contrast of his icy touch against your burning skin. You hummed and pressed into him, giving him that encouragement he needed to proceed. With a playful smile, he began to grope and knead the soft flesh. He even experimentally pinched one of your nipples. You were eager to vocalize how much you enjoyed having him play with you like that, hoping to encourage him to proceed. You did not want him to get embarrassed or ashamed and shy away from being handsy.

Soon, you began to feel guilty that he was not getting any stimulation. All his attention was focused on you, on making you feel good. It was not in your nature to let your partner go untouched- especially one as deserving as Arthur. So, you reached down to palm between his legs. He gasped and bucked against you. His hands darted away from your chest and to his face, where it seemed like he was attempting to hide a blush that was already concealed by smeared greasepaint.

“Arthur…” You reached for his arm with your free hand and pulled it back. Once certain he was looking at you, you flashed him a sultry smirk and squeezed his stiff member through the layers of fabric. He tried to suppress a moan as his dick twitched in your grip. With a much gentler stroke, you asked, “Will you let me take care of this for you?”

“Pl- _please_.” His voice was hoarse as he stammered his plea.

“Of course.”

You sat back on your ankles, giving yourself room to free him. One hand pushed the hem of his waistcoat out of the way, the other unclamped his suspenders. After popping the button of his fly and dragging the zipper open, you tugged the baggy, patched trousers partway down his thighs. His worn briefs struggled to contain his erection. The white fabric had turned translucent from his profusely leaking cockhead. Your fingers curled around the waistband and yanked them down too, causing his dick to spring upright.

“Oh, _Arthur_!” you squealed in delight. His size was a pleasant surprise; that cock looked almost out of place on a body so thin. The length was average, nothing to scoff at, but he more than made up for it in girth. He gulped when your fingers coiled around his shaft. 

“You...” A sheepish chuckle escaped him. “You like it?”

You looked at him through your lashes, bit your bottom lip, and nodded. “It’s lovely.”

Arthur opened his mouth to reply, but with a few expert strokes of your hand those words were lost. He came undone, tossing his head to the side, fists clenching the bedding. With him still in your grip and your free hand resting on his chest, you leaned down to kiss him.

It wasn’t long before his hands were on your hips again. His thumbs rubbed little circles on your bare skin. The gesture was so sweet and sensual, you ached to go further. You reached for the buttons of his top, but Arthur brushed you away. Your hand drifted back and tried to loosen his tie, resulting in him gripping your wrist and pulling it back. He broke the kiss, giving you a stern look.

“That’s enough.”

It was clear you were not allowed to remove any more of his clothes. When he released your hand, you brought it to the wall above his head instead. You felt the fingers of his free hand in your hair, massaging your scalp. His hold on your hip loosened and drifted until his palm rested on your back.

“What next, Arthur?” You whispered directly into his ear, lips tickling the skin of his lobe. Your thumb teased his slit, smearing the precum around the head. He whimpered, too overwhelmed to speak.  
“Don’t be shy,” you urged, removing your hand from him completely. “Tell me what you want.”

“Um.” Arthur laughed softly. “What do you want?”

“Well, I want you inside me as soon as possible.”

Those eyes of his lit up, glittering in the dim light of the room. “That sounds good,” he rasped. More blood pumped through his veins at your candid desire. “Yeah, I’d like that, too.”

You leaned over him, reaching for your bedside table. It had been a while since you brought someone home, but you hoped you still had a spare condom hiding in there. After a moment of digging around with Arthur awkwardly pinned under you, you located one. You sat back and tore it open. 

Arthur paid close attention to what you did. He eyed you as you placed the rubber on the tip of his dick and carefully rolled it down the shaft. “Feel okay?” you asked when it was on. “Not too tight?”

“It’s fine.”

“Good.” You smiled. “Ready?”

After an affirmative and eager nod from him, you proceeded. You eased yourself down, shuddering from the pleasant stretch of his cock filling you. You were so hot, wet and ready. You effortlessly sunk onto him in one silken stroke.

“Oh _God_ ,” he choked out. His fingertips dug into your flesh. If his nails weren’t chewed down to the quick, he surely would have clawed your skin. His breath quickened, as did his heartrate.

“Everything fine?” you asked, fingers brushing the limp curls of his hair behind his ear. “Need me to stop?”  
“No… Please don’t…” He shook his head. “I- ah hah, it’s good… So good…”

You circled your hips in his lap, causing him to buck up and groan. His fingers curled into a fist, which he brought to his mouth and tried to bite. Touching his wrist, you shook your head and he dropped it.

“None of that, Artie,” you said. “Don’t feel bad about making some noise for me. I wanna _hear_ you. I wanna hear how much you’re enjoying yourself.”

You emphasized your point with another roll of your hips and clenched around him. That action brought forth a sob of delight. You lifted yourself slightly to sink down on him again. After gauging his reaction and feeling like he was ready to proceed, you repeated that motion. You were slow and steady so he could grow accustomed to the sensation.

Instinct kicked in and Arthur became a more active participant, seemingly desperate from how you were dragging this out. He held your hips, guiding you up and then down. Each thrust into you was harder, faster, deeper than the last. His thick cock throbbed against your walls.

“Oh shit, Art… _Arthur_ … God, oh _yes_!” you moaned out. “I’m so _close_ … So, so close! Yes, fuck! Ah-Art, just like that!”

Arthur continued to pump in and out of you. Your hips rhythmically met his strokes. The tell-tale signs of his orgasm began to appear. His muscles tensed; his hips jerked. Laughter began to bubble up in his throat. He ran a hand down his face and tossed his head back. The sweat had melted his face paint and revealed streaks of his own skin tone underneath.

“Ah hah… I’m gonna… Hah… It’s… O-Oh, no…”

“Go ahead, Arthur,” you encouraged, snapping your hips against his. “ _Cum_. You can cum for me.”

Your reassurance was just what he needed to let loose. Sucking in a final, shaky inhale, his hips lurched upwards into you. His body quaked with release. You rode him harder through his climax in hopes of getting off with him. You ground your hips against his pubic bone, stimulating your clit enough to push you over the edge.

While yours wasn’t anything mind-blowing, you were able to have an orgasm of your own. You moaned and allowed yourself to collapse on his chest, enjoying those foreign waves of pleasure.

Raspy breathing and broken giggles claimed Arthur. His head lolled and chest heaved through his recovery. He tilted your head up to give you sloppy, lazy kisses.

“So good…” murmured Arthur, chuckling against your lips. “So good- you’re _so good_! Feels… feels good.”

You hummed at his incessant praise as you lay against him. He seemed content to hold you and whisper sweet things. His fit of laughter faded, as did the doting. In curiosity, you lifted your head to find he had fallen asleep.

You were careful not to wake him as you pulled yourself away. He didn’t stir when you sat off to his side, nor when you slipped off the mattress. Tip-toeing across the floor, you made it to the tiny bathroom. You were amused at the sight of your reflection. A good bit of Arthur’s paint had been transferred to your skin- your face, your chest, even your hair. You couldn’t help but giggle; you looked like a clown too.

You’d wash that off in a moment. First, you wanted to take care of him. You grabbed a washing from the cabinet. Running the water until it was warm, you then soaked the rag and rung it out. Back to the bed you went with rag in tow. You dabbed at his face, seeing it scrunch but his eyes didn’t open. When all the greasepaint was gone, you diverted your attention further south. You slipped the condom off his flaccid member, and took a moment to marvel at the sheer amount of cum that filled it before tying it up and cleaning him off. Satisfied with your work, you smoothed his hair back and kissed his forehead before retreating to the bathroom for a much needed shower.


	6. Chapter 6

The morning sun was blinding as it stirred Arthur from his slumber. Groaning, he held a hand up to spare his eyes. In his half-conscious haze, he noted his surroundings were unfamiliar. He certainly wasn’t on his couch. This bed was softer than his mother’s. The room was much more hospitable than the room they stuck him in during his stay in the hospital. He stretched and rolled onto his side before darting upright. He wasn’t alone.

Arthur leaned down and inspected his companion, noticing that the sleeping body beside him was female. He was in bed with woman. Color drained from his face as it clicked. He was in bed with _you_.

That couldn’t be right. He back laid down and screwed his eyes shut. Next time he opened them he’d be home in his smoky apartment, he thought. You’d be gone and he’d be all alone. His mother’s TV would be blaring in the next room. Everything would be like it had always been.

Arthur’s eyelids slowly cracked open. Sure enough, you were there. Your soft snores let him know you were still asleep. He ran a hand through his hair and breathlessly laughed in disbelief.

None of the day before felt real. But if you were by his side, that meant it _was_. It was real. _He_ was real. And everything that he thought was a crazy dream did happen. He did bring the gun to the children’s hospital. He did lose his job. He did kill those three guys. And he did have sex with you.

 _He did have sex with you_.

Arthur focused on you again. He reached over to touch you, just to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. The skin of your cheek was warm under his fingertips. He grinned. You were really right there. He scooched closer to you, the contact of your body against his grounded him. It was calming. This was his first time waking up beside a lover. He grinned at that thought.

 _A lover_.

That’s what you were, right? Were you lovers now? Maybe you were still friends. He _hoped_ you were friends, but he wondered if you could be lovers too. He liked you. And he couldn’t believe you liked him back. More than that, he couldn’t believe you _still_ liked him after the other day. It broke him to see you cry. He had been dwelling on that in the days since he turned you away. It haunted him. That wasn’t supposed to happen. His mother always told him his purpose was to bring laughter and joy to the world.

Even if she didn’t like it, that _included_ you.

Something changed last night in the subway. His adrenaline was through the roof and everything happened so fast. He remembered getting attacked, the gunshots and how his ears rung afterwards. Everything else sort of blended in together. He didn’t even know where he was until he showed up at your door. He didn’t know what he was even supposed to say when you answered. It all just happened.

Arthur lips tingled at the memory of kissing you when he entered your apartment. He eyed your lips as you slept. They looked even softer than they did last night. In fact, your whole face looked softer. He soon realized it was because you were lacking makeup. Perhaps it was a coincidence that this was also the most content and peaceful you had ever appeared.

Either way, he was awestruck. This was the prettiest he had ever seen you. Now that you were (maybe) lovers, he hoped he could see your face just like this more often. He’d like that. The longer he looked at you, the more he yearned to kiss you again. He felt himself getting excited just thinking about it. One little smooch wouldn’t hurt, would it? He found his mouth pressed against yours before he could even rationalize it.

You awoke to the taste of sleep and cigarettes as you felt a mouth upon yours. Your eyes fluttered open. The diffused rays of the morning sun shone through Arthur’s curls like a halo. Much to your surprise, he did not leave your side last night. You half-believed he would be distant after what the two of you did together. Needless to say, you were pleased to see him. You moaned between his hungry kisses. 

Arthur broke away from kissing you and looked at you with the fondest smile. God, you were so fucking pretty. It took his breath away. He had to tell you how he felt. “Hey,” he said. “You know, I was right that night.”

You yawned before asking, “What are you talking about?” Though you were awake now, your mind was still foggy from sleep. You had no clue what he was referring to.

A soft chuckle rose from Arthur’s throat. “ _You_ , silly.” His body was on top of yours now, effectively pinning you to the mattress while his lips roamed your jaw and neck. “I knew you’d be beautiful without makeup.”

As Arthur kissed you, he felt himself grow more excited. You were real. You were a real woman who was really allowing him to kiss you. You had let him have sex with you. Oh God, he wanted to do that again.

“Now that you’re awake, can we have more sex?”

“God… What time is it?” you asked, rubbing your eyes and glancing in the direction of your alarm clock. Before you could make out the time, he guided your face back to his attention. You sighed. “Don’t you have work?”

“Nuh-uh,” he murmured against your lips. He didn’t want to think about how he lost his job. He’d have to go by later on today and grab his things, but for now? You were his only obligation. “Can we please? I want you… I want to be in you. I’ve never felt so good in my entire life as I did last night. Please? I want to feel that way again.”

Arthur spoke so earnestly; you did not have the heart to deny him. “Of course, Artie.”

“Thank you.” Hearing you speak to him so tenderly filled him with joy. He sat up in bed, but not before peppering you with a few more kisses. “Thank you, so much…” he said, pausing to chuckle as he removed himself from his briefs. “Last night was… the first time for me, you know.” It felt silly to bring up, but he felt comfortable enough with you to tell the truth.

“Really?” you responded. Judging by the combination of his eagerness and clumsiness, you had figured he was either a virgin or it had been a very, _very_ long time. Not that it was a bad thing at all, you found it endearing and much more pleasurable than your typical trysts. “Well, you were a natural. I hope I didn’t disappoint.”

“No, I’m glad it was with you.” You? Disappoint? He couldn’t imagine it. You were incredible at what you did last night; he couldn’t wait to do it with you again. He pulled your nightgown up and over your head then yanked your panties down your legs. Once they were out of the way, he positioned himself between your legs and ran his hands along your hips. “You’re so good; you make me feel so good. I feel like… I don’t know. I can’t describe it.”

“Wait,” you said, scooting back from him. He was taking things _much_ faster than he did last night. He didn’t even give you a chance to seek protection. “Let me find a condom.”

Arthur huffed and frowned. “Do we _need_ it?”

“So impatient!” you giggled. With one hand on his chest, you held him back. “Are you really that eager to fuck me?”

Arthur blushed. He hadn’t thought of it as _fucking_ you. “Yes,” he answered. He stroked your thigh and looked at you with pleading puppy dog eyes. “I need to fuck you.” He could’ve cum just from telling you that. That word felt so heavy and naughty on his tongue. It made him feel different… It made him feel like a man. “Right now.”

“ _Well_ …” you said, purposely dragging out your answer to tease. “I _am_ on the pill.”

That meant nothing to him. He just looked at you, blinking.

“Go ahead. But don’t make a habit of it.”

Arthur was overjoyed. The moment you gave permission, he guided himself back to you, parting your silken lips with the tip of his cock. He grunted in bliss as he pushed himself into you, all the way in until he was balls deep. Once he felt satisfied, he withdrew himself and thrust in again. You allowed him to use your body for his pleasure. You went through the motions- gripping his back, humming in approval every so often, and squeezing around him. It was a bad habit of yours. You had grown so desensitized to the act.

After a few minutes of languid humping, Arthur propped himself up. He was still inside of you, but ceased movement. Something was bothering him; you could tell by that look in his eyes.

“You don’t seem like you’re enjoying this,” he admitted with a frown. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Don’t worry,” you assured him. “You’re doing fine.”

He was not a fool. That mutual passion from last night was nowhere in sight. Even an amateur could tell that you were just a passive participant.

“Please. Be honest with me.” He stroked your hair. His dazzling green eyes gazed into yours with the utmost sincerity. “Tell me what to do. I want to know how to make you feel as good as you make me feel. If you don’t like this, I’m willing to try something new.”

“You’re too sweet,” you said while smiling. It was nice that you could be truthful to him. Finding a man who cared to pay attention to your pleasure was rare. “I’m not used to that.”

It made him sad to hear that, especially after all you did for him. “I hope I can change that then.” He meant those words. You deserved it.

Clasping his hand, you brought it between your bodies. You rested his palm against your lower abdomen, and guided his thumb to the cleft of your sex.

“I want you to rub right here,” you directed, using his thumb to graze your clit. You assisted him at first, then let go of his hand.

All his concentration was focused on that bundle of nerves. “Like this?” He needed the validation, concerned that you still were not fully enjoying yourself.

“Mmm… Almost, but not quite.” You tilted your hips up slightly to give him better access. “Add some pressure, but not too hard.”

He followed your instructions without question. The pad of his thumb stroked you in such a way he successfully sent a jolt of pleasure through your body.

“God, _yes_ ,” you sighed and bit your lip. Your thighs instinctively clamped around his hips. “Just like that. Artie, please keep doing that!”

Arthur’s smile was so wide now you could see his teeth. He was a fast learner. In no time, he’d be the perfect lover. You just hoped that he would stay yours.

“Can you multitask?” you asked. “Pair what you were doing before with what I just showed you?”

“Yes, ma'am.” 

“God, it drives me crazy when you talk like that!” You pulled him down to kiss his lips. He began to move his hips again while his thumb still worked its magic. This was a sensation that was liable to send you over the edge. “You're such a good man. I’m lucky to know you.”

He blushed, humbled by your compliments. It was jarring how much more gorgeous he looked when he smiled. He was a handsome man regardless, but seeing his lips curl into a playful smirk, the tense lines of his face soften, and his eyes brighten with life brought out the best in him. You wanted to see more of him, all of him. You had reason to believe there was much more beauty to him.

“Can I ask one more thing of you?”

“Anything,” he replied.

Your hands rubbed up the front of his chest. He never got fully undressed. It felt bold of you to ask, but you needed to know. “Would you mind if I got rid of this?”

Arthur froze at the question. His expression was as though you just backhanded him. “Why?” he quietly asked.

“Because,” you said. “I want to see how beautiful you are.”

Suddenly, he felt embarrassed. He averted his eyes. “There’s not much to look at,” he mumbled.

“Let me be the judge of that.” You touched his face. “But only if you’re comfortable.”

Eyes still downcast, he nodded. His fingers reached for the buttons of his waistcoat without another word. Once that was unbuttoned, he tossed it to the ground and began working on his shirt. With a deep breath, he shrugged off the top and let it fall behind him on the bed.

Your heart ached. Fresh bruises and faded scars decorated his torso and upper arms. It looked like he had endured plenty of beatings. He was so thin; you could see every single bone under his skin. It was obvious he was malnourished. He winced, feeling your eyes resting on him.

“I’m sorry…”

“Why?” you asked. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I wish you didn’t have to see… _this_ … ruining the moment.” 

“Arthur, _no_. Listen to me…” You cupped his face. Looking deep into his eyes, your thumbs brushed over his cheekbones. “You’ve got _nothing_ to be ashamed of. If anything, I’m sorry the world has been so cruel to you. I’d kiss every inch of you to make you feel better if I knew it would help.”

You could see a smile forming, but it was not one of happiness. Twisted, tormented, the corners his lips turned upward in pain. Soon, he would be laughing. It broke your heart.

“I know how it can be,” you said. “ _Believe_ me, I understand. Like, I don’t feel like _you_ deserved to see _my_ face without makeup. Truth be told, I _hate_ looking at myself. You still said I’m beautiful, right?”

Arthur knitted his brows at looked you over. “But you _are_ beautiful,” he said, on the verge of confusion. He did not understand how you could say that about yourself. How could you _not_ see how amazing you were?

“And _you’re_ beautiful, too,” you assured him. “To me, you’re more beautiful than anyone.”

It still did not make much sense to him. How could you find _him_ beautiful but not yourself? In his mind, you had things backwards. However, your words did put him at ease. And your arms around him gave him that much more comfort. He had to admit that your bare skin against his felt incredible.

“Don’t worry. The moment wasn’t ruined.” You planted a kiss on his cheek. “In fact, I feel more in love with you than before.”

Arthur’s eyes lit up. Did… you say? Yeah. You did. You said “ _Love_.” He heard it. That word rejuvenated him, _invigorated_ him. It gave him the power he needed to push on. He reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He relished this- the warmth of your body flush against his, the taste of your lips and tongue as you kissed him, _everything_ about this moment. His free hand snaked between the two of you to begin stimulating you once more.

You reacted to his touch. The way he stroked your clit so delicately provoked shivers. You needed him to get you off. Hooking your legs around him, you encouraged him to resume.

And resume he did. Soon, Arthur was snapping his hips against you with more fervor than before. He panted against your lips. His hand squeezed yours tight with every sharp thrust. A constant stream of moans and swears spilled from your mouth each time Arthur collided with you, while he chanted your name over and over as he teetered towards release. The intimacy of this morning overwhelmed you.

This time, you were the first to lose yourself to the throes of passion, thanks to Arthur’s expert hand. He followed upon feeling your orgasm around him, pinning you down as he spilled himself deep within you. Your eyes rolled back and you moaned aloud. Who gave a shit if everyone in the building could hear? In that moment, you were absolutely possessed by the pleasure of feeling him cumming inside of you.

You cradled Arthur as he gasped and buried his face in your neck. Your fingers ran through his hair, smoothing the tangles out until he roused. He rolled off you and reached for his shirt, pulling his pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the front pocket.

You grabbed your ash tray from the end table for him and noticed the time. _Shit_. It was getting late. Sitting the tray beside him, you crawled down from the bed and retrieved your gown. You walked off to the restroom to clean up a bit. When you returned a minute later, Arthur looked at you as though you had just betrayed him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I need to start getting ready for work.”

“Oh.” With a frown, he flicked his ashes into the tray. He had hoped to lay around with you a little longer.

Truth be told, you didn’t want him to leave just yet either. You could use the company. “I don’t mind if you hang out though,” you said. “Make yourself at home.”

He gave you an understanding nod. Taking one more drag of his cigarette, he smashed the butt and sat up. “May I use your restroom?”

You grinned and shook your head. “Nope, not allowed.”

Wide-eyed, he looked at you. You supposed he thought you were being serious.

“I’m _kidding_ , Artie!” you giggled. “Go ahead. It’s right over there. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

When you headed out of the room, Arthur stood up and walked to the bath. He tossed the toilet seat up (living with his mother, he learned this was a must with women), and began to relieve himself. He looked around your bathroom when he was done. It was much different than his own. Not in structure, the layout and fixtures were identical, but in personal touches. Everything was very feminine, from the cleaning products to the linens, but not dated like that of which he was accustomed. After flushing the toilet and lowering the seat back (another must), he washed his hands. He made a few faces at himself in the mirror before venturing out to find you.

Like you mentioned, you were in the kitchen.

“Can I get you something, Arthur?” you said, turning to him. You must have heard him approach, because he didn’t announce his presence. “Coffee? Some toast? I think I might have cereal, but my milk expired.”

“No, thank you,” he replied. 

“You sure? I’d hate to stuff my face in front of you.”

“It’s alright,” Arthur assured you. “Really, I’m not hungry.”

Shrugging, you sat your plate on the table. “Suit yourself.”

You turned back around to grab a cup from the cabinet. As you poured coffee in your mug, you caught him stifling a yawn. You glanced in his direction and lifted an eyebrow.

“Okay,” he said sheepishly. “I might could use some of that, too.”

A giggle escaped you and you reached for another cup. He grabbed a chair and seated himself at your table. You sat the hot cup of coffee in front of him, then came back with sugar, creamer, and spoons for each of you. After you grabbed your mug, you sat in the seat opposite to him.

As simple as it was, you absolutely loved this moment. Something about the two of you, together, just enjoying breakfast and each other’s company felt domestic. Things seemed right. It filled that void that had been consuming you for years. You could get used to this. You hoped it could happen more often.

“Hey…” Arthur spoke, drawing your attention from your daydream. “What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight?” you asked, sitting down your piece of toast. “Hmm… I’m meeting a few clients today, but I don’t think I’m booked this evening. What’s up?”

“I think I’m going to do some stand up,” he said. “At Pogo’s. I’d love to see you there.”

You clasp your hands together. “Sure! What time?”

“Like seven, I guess.”

“Yeah! I’ll be there!” you exclaimed. “Pogo’s at seven!”

Arthur gazed directly at you. His expression faded from whimsical to solemn. “Promise?”

You reached across the table and took his hand. “Promise,” you said. “No matter what. I won’t miss it.”

With a curt nod, he rose from his seat with his empty cup in hand. He walked over to your sink and rinsed out his cup. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Okay,” you said. You weren’t surprised. He likely had work soon, too. But the way he walked to the door without another word disappointed you.

“Arthur?” you called out. He looked over his shoulder at you. “Don’t I get a kiss goodbye?”

Arthur’s cheeks blazed with color. He looked away bashfully then wandered back towards your direction. You stood up to meet him, raising a hand to his jaw. He lowered his head slightly for you with closed eyes and puckered lips. Closing the distance by standing on your tiptoes, your lips gently pressed against his. His fingers brushed along your upper arm before he pulled back.

“Bye, Artie.” You ruffled his hair, causing him to blush harder. “Have a good day!”

“See you tonight.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fluffy chapter uwu

“Afternoon, Mr. Jackson!” you chirped stepping into the office. The man perked up the moment you entered the room, greeting you with a jovial laugh. You locked the door behind you as you always did and approached his antique oak desk.

Isaac Jackson, the Senior Vice President of Wayne Capital Bank, was a peculiar, stocky man nearing sixty years old. Mr. Jackson was one of the few clients you didn’t have to get intimate with, he just really liked feet. Ever since his ex-wife left about a year ago, he arranged for you to meet him so he could get his fill. Sometimes it’d be a fancy dinner and a massage. Others, like today, he’d treat you to a pedicure in his office. His fetish didn’t bother you. In fact, you almost enjoyed the time you spent with him.

“What color should we go with today, my dear?” he asked, unlocking the bottom drawer of his desk where he kept all his pedicure supplies.

“Hmm, don’t really have a preference,” you said. You slipped your heels off and perched yourself on his desk. “How about you surprise me?”

The man hummed while looking over his collection of polishes. He settled on one and sat it on the desk beside you. You reached for the bottle to look while he grabbed everything he needed for his ritual. A fond smile crept on your face upon looking at it. Sparkly emerald- you couldn’t have chosen a better color yourself. Maybe it was a stretch of the imagination, but it reminded you of Arthur’s beautiful eyes.

“Did ya hear about those murders last night?” he nonchalantly asked as he began to remove the existing color from your toenails. That’s all it ever was in Gotham. Murders. Muggings. Never any feel-good news. It seemed like that was the only small-talk he could muster. 

“Oh no, I try to avoid the news,” you said with a sigh. “Everything is so dreadful these days. It would drive me to tears keeping up with all those tragedies.”

“Don’t blame you,” replied the man. “Surprised you didn’t hear about this one, though. It was plastered everywhere today.”

Though he bored you with current events, you always feigned interest to keep him content. “What happened? Anything crazier than normal?”

“I’d say. Some nutcase shot three boys on the subway last night,” he told you. “Witnesses say he was dressed like a clown.”

“ _What_?” you gasped. “I’m sorry… D-did you say a _clown_?”

“Yep, you heard right, darling. Can you believe that? Such a shame; I knew one of the kid’s parents.”

Nausea washed over you. Your blood ran cold. Mr. Jackson continued to talk, but you couldn’t focus on a word he was speaking.

A clown? Your chest felt tight. You thought back to last night. Arthur. The blood on his clothes. The smell of gun smoke.

 _No_.

It _couldn’t_ have been Arthur. You refused to even consider the possibility. There was no way. He was with you last night. That was his alibi. He spent the night with you. You’d testify to that. Not that you needed to testify, because he was innocent.

“Not as chatty today,” your client spoke and brought you back to reality. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Oh! Sorry…” You shook your head. “A little speechless is all.”

“Scared of clowns?” he teased, tickling the sole of your foot as he did. You ignored that.

“No, no… I _like_ clowns, actually.” You liked one clown in particular, the one you had sex with just last night of all nights. “Can’t believe someone would do something like that.”

He bought that, but you tried to push Arthur to the back of your mind and be more engaging for the remainder of your session. It was difficult not to shut down after hearing news so heavy, especially as the conversation drifted to the dull topic of Thomas Wayne's mayoral candidacy announcement.

The rest of the day didn’t get any easier. It seemed like every man you spoke to was obsessing over the murders. Someone told you that the killer wore a mask, another said it was face paint. No one’s stories seemed to match; just a bunch of baseless allegations. The single detail most seemed to agree on was that the motive was that the victims were well-off. Many described it this as a hate-crime against the more fortunate. As if things weren’t strained enough, the rift between classes grew before your very eyes.

You just had to grin and bare it. The men you serviced were all wealthy. Each man took this personally. And every one of them praised Thomas Wayne for speaking out.

 _Eugh_.

Arthur couldn’t have done it, but if he did, he most likely had a reason. You knew how cocky Wall Street boys acted. You were familiar their type. They lacked the panache of old money, acted like the world and everyone in it were theirs to do as they please. All the money on earth wasn’t enough to deal with men like that. Those bastards probably provoked him- the murderer, that is… whoever he may be.

After your last session of the day, you rushed across town to Pogo’s comedy club. The bus stop you frequented seemed more crowded than usual. Maybe less people were taking the subway after yesterday’s incident. Maybe it was just a coincidence, or your shitty luck. Either way, you were running behind. Though it would cost you, you opted for a taxi. You made a promise to Arthur that you intended to keep.

It was past seven when you snuck in. You were late, but you were there. Never attending a comedy club before, you were impressed by the size of the crowd. There weren’t many seats available, so you opted to stand near the back of the darkened room.

Arthur was already on stage. Much to your disappointment, his set had begun prior to your arrival. You hated that you didn’t make it sooner. The poor man looked like a nervous wreck, but he powered through. The crowd was a tough nut to crack. Their hushed laughter made you nervous, and you weren’t even the one in front of them. 

You enjoyed it regardless. Arthur could use a bit of work, but everyone had to start somewhere. It was obvious that this was something that he loved doing. You found it endearing to listen to him quip. His soft voice soothed you and it was a pleasure to be able to listen to him talk uninterrupted. After he was ushered off the stage to make room for the next comedian, you slipped out to try to find him.

You hung out by the backstage door and lit a cigarette to pass the time. In a few minutes, he walked out of it and right past you.

“Artie!” you called to him. “Hey!”

Arthur head whipped in your direction, astonished. “You made it,” he said. The hint of disbelief and joy in his tone was bittersweet. It stung knowing he didn’t believe you would show.

“I promised, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” Arthur cracked a smile and stuck his fists in his jacket pocket. “So, what’d you think?”

“ _Well…_ ” you said. “I just hope you remember me when you’re famous!”

He ducked his head, but you could still see his blush. “You’re just saying that…” 

“Bullshit. My cheeks hurt from laughing.” They actually hurt from smiling at how adorable he was, but he didn’t need to know that. “Murray Franklin better watch his back. If he’s not careful, you’ll kill his career as the king of late-night laughs.”

A small gasp came from Arthur’s direction. “Funnier than _Murray_? You don’t mean that, do you?”

“Miles funnier than that asshole,” you assured. “Cuter too.”

Arthur beamed and pulled you into a tight embrace. Returning it, your arms wrapped around his waist. He squeezed you tighter and swayed in his hold.

“Hey, wanna grab a bite to eat?” you asked when he released you. One look in his eyes and it was obvious he wanted to go with you, but you sensed reluctance. “Please? My treat for the next big star.”

“I can’t be out too late,” Arthur told you. “My mother was wondering where I was all night last night.”

“We'll just be sure to get something fast then!” you said. You playfully bumped hips with him, causing him to grin and loosen up. “C'mon, let’s get going while we have time.”

The two of you ditched Pogo’s and wandered downtown in search for a place to dine. You didn’t have any particular cuisine in mind. To be honest, you weren’t even hungry. You just wanted an excuse to spend time with Arthur. It was late October, and the autumn chill had picked up. You found yourself walking closer to him despite the fact that he didn’t provide much body heat. Perhaps it was the comfort of knowing he was there that warmed your soul.

The two of you passed newsstands along the way. Each one caught Arthur’s eye. You’d see him looking at the articles about the “clown vigilante” in fascinated curiosity. You lingered uneasily, reading his face as he read the papers. Some passersbys donned clown masks, much to Arthur’s amusement. You wanted to ask him his thoughts, get his perspective, but feared that would lead down a path you weren’t prepared to travel. If he brought up the topic, that would be different. You’d have a conversation with him about current events, but he would have to bring it up.

He didn’t. And you weren’t going to dwell on it.

After rambling around Gotham, you settled on a tiny diner not too far away from the apartments. Arthur passed this place daily and never had a chance to wander inside. It was quaint. There weren’t many patrons, but the few who were there looked to be regulars judging by their interactions with the staff.

Once inside, you led him to a booth in the corner. He liked the spot; the two of you could talk uninterrupted. The moment you sat down, you grabbed a menu and started looking at it. Arthur followed suit, skimming over the menu himself. Nothing looked particularly appetizing to him. Nothing _ever_ did. His medicine ruined his appetite. He wouldn’t have that problem much longer, though, seeing as today was the last chance he’d get to have his prescriptions filled. He didn’t know what he was going to do now… not like they worked anyway.

A waitress approached your booth, greeted you and placed silverware in front of each of you. Pulling a notepad from her apron, she asked if you were ready to order.

“What are you getting?” you asked.

Arthur responded with the cheapest thing he could find. “A cup of coffee.”

“Like, to eat,” you clarified.

He was put on the spot. He stared down at the menu again and sheepishly shrugged. “I… I really don’t know…”

You looked to the waitress with a smile. “Say, what would you recommend?”

“You can’t go wrong with our chicken finger platter,” she replied. “Some say it’s the best in Gotham.”

You hummed in acknowledgement and closed your menu. “Let’s go with a tea for me,” you stated. “And a coffee and that chicken tender basket for him.”

Arthur didn’t get a chance to protest before the waitress jotted your order down on the pad and shoved it back in her apron. “Alrighty,” she chirped. “It’ll be out in a jiffy!” She turned on her heel and headed to the back.

He leaned over the table when she was out of sight. “Why’d you order me that?” he whispered. “I-I can’t eat all that.”

“You don’t have to eat it all,” you said. Your next words had you grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “We can share.”

Arthur’s face turned a hue of bright pink. He supposed he wouldn’t feel so bad about you buying food for him if you were going to share it. You giggled at how bashful he could get, which caused him to join in too. Your butterflies returned. It felt like the two of you were just kids on a first date. In the midst of your giggling, the waitress returned with your drinks.

“Careful,” she warned, sitting them down on the table. “They’re hot! Food should be out shortly.”

You both simultaneously thanked her. She nodded and flitted over to assist another diner.

“I’m surprised your mom wasn’t there tonight,” you mused, stirring your tea before taking a sip.

Arthur had been dumping sugar into his coffee, but froze at your statement. “What?”

“Oh, I just… I thought maybe she’d show to support you. Did she know you were doing stand-up?”

Arthur’s demeanor faded again. She had told him before that he’d have to be funny to be a comedian… She didn’t think he was.

“No.” His eyes stared into the pool of black coffee as he shook his head. “It’s tough for her to leave the house these days.”

“Aw, that’s a shame,” you said with a frown. “Is that why you stay with her? You’re her caretaker?”

“Yeah,” replied Arthur. “It’s just me and her. It’s always been this way, for as long as I remember.”

“I see. Well then, I don’t blame her for being worried, especially days like these. Anything could have happened to you last night.”

 _You could have been murdered_ , you considered. Those subway murders were still on your mind, even if they were far from his. Thankfully, you kept that thought to yourself. Things were scary enough in Gotham now, you didn’t need to state the obvious.

Your train of thought derailed, but Arthur’s was still focused on the conversation. He tilted his head in your silence. “You don’t live with anyone. Do you?” he inquired.

“Nope. It’s just me,” you quickly responded. Perhaps a little _too_ quick, but you didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. “Nice most of the time, not having to share my space. The downside is that I don’t share bills either…” You sighed. “Well, that and it gets lonely.”

Even though he had his mother, Arthur knew it all too well. “It can get lonely with others around, too.” 

“That’s so fucking true.” Those words he just spoke described your entire existence. Oh, the irony… lonely even though you’re a professional companion. You offered him a sympathetic smile. “Y’know, your mom’s real lucky to have a man like you to take care of her.”

“Yeah.”

With that, the conversation grew stale. The two of you were merely sipping your beverages in silence. The last of your words lingered in his mind.

Arthur loved his mother. He took very good care of her and made sure she was well. Yet sometimes he felt a twinge of resentment, some deep-rooted frustration. As he sat with you now, those feelings brewed within him. He couldn’t even pinpoint why he felt that way. Maybe it was because he was born wrong, something else stemming from that condition of his. Whatever it was, he hated himself when those feelings crept up. It was cruel and unfair. Penny needed him. All they had were each other, and she had always taken care of him. The least he could do was pay her back.

You could smell the waitress’s arrival before hearing or seeing her. The salty smell of freshly fried food wafted in your direction, only growing stronger as she stopped at your booth.

“Here ya are!” she said, sitting the plate down in the middle of the two of you. “Need anything else?

“No, thank you,” you replied.

“In that case, enjoy!”

“Thank you!” you and Arthur said at the same time. 

Your stomach growled upon looking at the mouthwatering meal. “Smells good,” you said. You dipped a tender in sauce and held it up. “You first; tell me if it tastes good too!”

Arthur playfully rolled his eyes, but opened his mouth and leaned forward for you regardless. You brought the chicken strip to his mouth and he took a bite.

“Wow,” he said, still chewing. He swallowed what was in his mouth before he continued. “That’s pretty good.”

“Yeah?” You dipped the tender again before taking a bite yourself. Your eyes widened and your head bobbed enthusiastically. It was juicy, spicy, crispy- everything a chicken finger should be. “Damn, that _is_ good. They must have a secret recipe.”

Arthur reached for a few french fries as you finished off the tender. After eating them, he hummed in appreciation. “These aren’t bad either. Here.” He held a fry out for you to grab, but you ate it right out of his hand, amusing him in the process. The remainder of the meal went by like that. Sharing was a smart move. Ignoring the fact that it didn’t take much to fill Arthur up, it seemed to be too big of a serving for one person.

Even after the plate was clean, the two of you cut up and took advantage of your free refills. You had no idea Arthur could be so damn chatty. Like, you had no clue who Gary was or that Arthur had been in the hospital recently, but he opened up to you so naturally that you felt like the two of you had been friends forever. You would have loved to stay and listen to him all night. Yet after the waitress stopped by to refill you drinks for the umpteenth time and slipped the check on the table, you realized that all good things must come to an end.

“I guess it is getting late,” you said, digging through your bag for the cash to cover the meal. “We should probably get going, huh?”

“Yeah,” said Arthur wistfully. He had to reluctantly force himself out of the booth as you walked to the register to pay. He knew he needed to get home, but he didn’t want to be there quite yet. He didn’t want to part with you.

Somehow, you both agreed to take the long way back to the apartments without ever mentioning it aloud. Sure, it was foolhardy. Gotham was a crazy place full of crazier people. This town was crawling with criminals and murderers. You should have been creeped out, scared to death, maybe even frightened for your life. To be honest, you didn’t care. If you died now, you’d die happy. You’d die the happiest you had ever been in your entire life.

The extra time that the scenic route gave to you felt like nothing at all. All too soon, you were back in that run-down building you lived in, walking through the dilapidated lobby. The elevator was open, vacant, ready to take him upstairs and away from you. You stopped, looking over to see him ignoring the open doors.

“Not taking the elevator tonight?”

Arthur shook his head. “Um, I’d rather walk you up, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh…” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, cheeks flushed at his request. Biting your lip, you reached over and took hold of his hand. “I’d be honored.”

Arthur took in a sharp inhale the moment you touched him, and let it out as a shaky chuckle. You gave his palm a reassuring squeeze, then took a step towards the stairwell when you got a smile out of him.

Hand in hand, you climbed the stairs. Your hands swung together back and forth as you ascended the flight.

“Lot of steps,” he said when you neared the fifth floor.

“Mhm,” you responded. “My legs are so damn sore… Definitely going to soak in the tub tonight.”

The thought of you in your bath would certainly be something Arthur revisited the next time he was alone. Maybe he’d even take one himself.

“Between this and the walk home, at least my calves are probably the best in all of Gotham.”

Arthur laughed aloud. Amused, you glanced over at him.

Smirking, you glanced at him. “Something funny?”

“Nah… No…” he said, still grinning. “Just that _you’re_ the best in all of Gotham.”

“Me?” You scoffed. “No, _you_!”

“Nuh-uh…”

You stopped between two floors and folded your arms in front of your chest. “Mr. Fleck, are you calling me a _liar_?” you teased.

Arthur’s eyes went wide. He tried to stammer a response to diminish himself without negating you, but you pressed a finger to his lips.

“Hush…” you said. “Just make it up to me.”

“How?” he asked breathlessly.

You gazed deep into those emerald orbs he called eyes. The adoration you felt for him had your heart close to bursting. 

“Well, _unfortunately_ , we’re at my floor.” Unfolding your arms, you took hold of each of his hands this time. “So, how about kiss me goodnight?”

Arthur shook his hands out of your hold and wrapped his arms around your waist. He rested his forehead against yours, his nose brushed your nose. Holding you close, his mouth met you for a tender, delicate kiss. You could feel an affection so pure flow through his lips to yours. As he whispered your name, you began to grow emotional. If you weren’t careful, this would become the _third_ time you cried in this same damn stairwell because of _him_. Though this time would be different, the tears would be ones of love, you’d prefer _not_ to have to do that. You granted him one more peck on his lips before pulling away.

“G’night, Arthur.”

He freed you from his embrace, and stroked your cheek before opening the door to your hallway. “Goodnight.”


	8. Chapter 8

That night soon soured for Arthur, as most unfortunately do.

Penny was asleep in her chair when he arrived home. The television set was blaring the ending credits of her show and a fresh letter sat on the end table beside her. Still in a playful mood after his evening with you, he waltzed with his mother to the music from the TV as he ushered her to bed. She brought his attention to her most recent letter, asking him to mail it off for her like she often did.

Curiosity got the better of Arthur after Penny had retired. What did his mother even need to say to a man she hadn’t known in over 30 years? The envelope was soon pried open, and all hell broke loose.

Arthur couldn’t believe the words he had seen. Angry and confused, he confronted her. It led to an argument which led to her telling him that what she wrote was the truth. He was the son of Thomas Wayne.

Even after she calmed him down, Arthur was still hurt and upset. She had been keeping a secret from him his _entire_ life. She had lied to him about everything. She didn’t even plan on telling him.

The night lasted forever. He couldn’t find rest. He yearned for the way you made him feel hours ago, the way you made him feel that morning, the way he felt the night before. Why did he have to go back to feeling so _bad_? He didn’t feel that way when he was with you. He needed to be with you.

And you… you said you had met Thomas Wayne. If he remembered correctly, you worked with rich men. Maybe you could help him find some answers. You were his only hope.

The sun had not yet come up when he couldn’t take it any longer. He marched right up the stairs and to your apartment.

Rapping at the door tore you from your slumber. Your alarm clock said it was just after five in the morning. It was way too early to be getting out of bed. Throwing your robe on over your nightgown, you stumbled down the hall. You peered through the peephole to see who the hell felt the need to wake you up.

Any trace of annoyance dissipated. Arthur. Of _course_ , it was Arthur. You quickly unfastened the locks and opened the door. His face lit up when he saw you, which filled you with warmth.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey…” you repeated.

“Sorry to wake you. I know it’s early.” He was sheepish, apologetic. “But I need your help.”

Nothing else needed to be said. His sweet, yet somber tone pleaded with your heart. The door swung open wide, and you stepped to the side to invite him in. Arthur granted you a sad, grateful smile and entered your apartment. Closing and locking the door behind him, you motioned for him to follow you into the living room.

“Is everything okay?”

He flopped down onto your couch. Eyes closed; his head moved from side to side. “No,” he laughed. “Not really.”

Frowning, you seated yourself next to him. “What’s wrong? What can I do?”

Arthur hesitated, but he felt like you were his only hope. Though he hated to ask, he needed you. You were patient, watching as he wrung his hands to get up the nerve. “You said you met Thomas Wayne, right?”

“Oh God,” you grumbled. His name was the last thing you wanted to hear this early. You scrubbed your face. “Why? Is this for your mother?”

“No… _No_ , this is for me. Please. This is important. I really need to talk to him.”

“Arthur, it’s not like I know him personally.”

Arthur’s demeanor took a nosedive. He planted his face in his palms. You felt terrible. You didn’t know why speaking with that man was so important, but you wanted to do whatever you could to help Arthur.

“I… The best I can do is tell you where he lives. I’ve been to a benefit at Wayne Manor once. Maybe you could try that?”

His head lifted. He looked over to you. Tears brimmed his lower lash, but hope had been renewed. “Really?”

“Yeah.” You patted his knee and offered a smile. “If he isn’t there, I’m sure someone there would have a better idea of where to find him. But I’d say it’s far too early to bother him though. He’s a businessman, y’know? Trying to seek him out in the mornings would likely just piss him off.”

“Yeah,” Arthur sighed and nodded. “I think you’re right.”

With that, you rose from the couch. Holding up a finger to Arthur to keep him at bay, you walked across the room to retrieve your purse. Digging inside, you found your little black book. You flipped through the pages looking for today’s appointments.

“Oh!” exclaimed Arthur. “You got one too?”

“Hm?”

“Your journal,” he clarified, pointing to the notebook in your hands. “They make me keep one too.”

“Oh, this?” you asked, holding up the book. “Yeah, I use it to keep organized. I’d be lost without it.”

“I write jokes in mine. And other stuff.”

You smiled hearing about his notebook as you searched through yours.

Eventually, you found today’s date. You only had one booking much later in the evening. Good, you were free to help Arthur. “I’m not very good at giving directions, but I might can ride with you over there this afternoon,” you told him. “What time do you have work?”

“I guess I didn’t tell you.” Casting his eyes downward, he rubbed the back of his neck. “I lost my job.”

“Oh, my God. No… Arthur, I’m so sorry! Do you need money?” you asked. “Is that why you have to see Wayne? You don’t have to go to him. I can help you out. How much do you n-?”

“No, no! I’m fine for now. This isn’t over money,” he said. “I… I’m… I’m his son.”

The book slipped out of your grip and dropped to the floor. “You’re _what_?” Your disbelief was audible.

“Those letters… The ones my mom writes. I read one of them last night. He’s my father.”

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “She said they couldn’t be together. That she had to sign papers and couldn’t tell people about me.”

You felt your anger rise within you. “That’s fucking bullshit.”

Arthur lifted his eyes. Your outburst alarmed him. “What is?”

“That man wipes his ass with hundred-dollar bills and he won’t even claim his own flesh and blood?” you ranted, not even caring that your neighbors were likely asleep. “He sweeps his infidelities under the rug and pretends they never happened? How the hell does anyone expect a bastard like that to run the city?!” You threw your hands up and scoffed. “God, I can’t believe it! This is why rich fucks like him are getting gunned down!”

You had gotten so worked up you were shaking. Once you calmed down, you could hear Arthur clicking his lighter. A chilling chuckle came from the other side of the room.

“That’s not why,” mumbled Arthur, lowering his head again to smoke.

It took a second to click, but when it did, you froze in place.

“Wait, _what_? Arthur…” His name wavered in your throat. Arthur’s focus did not break away from the floor.

You suddenly felt weak. Your voice didn’t carry like you hoped it would. You took a step closer. “Arthur… Was that _you_?”

“Hm?” A devious smirk cocked up one side of his mouth and the color drained from your skin.

“Oh God,” you choked. “It _was_ … wasn’t it? Tell me it wasn’t you. The clown…”

Snickering, he sat up on the couch with his elbows on his knees. Was he supposed to feel guilty about what happened in the subway? Worried? Because he didn’t. It didn’t bother him like he thought it would. In fact, he felt good. He felt better than he had ever felt in his entire life. He considered he would likely feel even _better_ if he came clean to you. With this thought, he withdrew the pistol from his waistband and brandished it for you.

All the air left your lungs as you gasped. You grew faint. You leaned back against the wall for support. Arthur brought his cigarette to his grinning lips with his free hand. After taking a long drag, he looked directly into your eyes and stated, “Come here.”

You found yourself in front of him before you knew it. Bringing the smoke to his lips, he offered you his hand. You accepted, which led to him pulling you into his lap. An arm draped around your waist, allowing you to feel the heft of the weapon against the small of your back.

“I fucked up.” He chuckled again, speaking so matter-of-factly. The cigarette momentarily rested between his lips so he could comb his hair back with his fingers. Flicking the ashes, he continued his confession. “The first two… I barely remember what happened. They… They were singing. They _jumped_ me. I was scared. Suddenly, the gun was in my hands. And then they were dead… It was over. It could’ve been over, but the last…”

He paused to smoke again. You watched with bated breath. A look of utter satisfaction graced his features. He traced up your spine with the barrel of his gun, causing shivers and raising goosebumps. With a wistful sigh, he rested his head upon your shoulder.

“Y’know, he got the message,” said Arthur. “The tables had turned. For the first time in my life, I had the upper hand. He wasn’t hurting me anymore. But I did it. I _knew_ I was doing it. I followed that guy. I shot him. It felt good. And… And if I’m being honest…” He smashed the remainder of his cigarette in the ash tray and cut eyes to you. “If I could go back, I think I’d fucking kill him again.”

The moment felt surreal. It seemed like a joke. Yet you knew that wasn’t the case. Arthur was calm, collected. There was no hesitation or faltering as he spoke. All of this was the truth. Though his voice was the same, he almost sounded like a different person. His inflection, his choice of words- all of it felt foreign, as if someone was talking through him. Regardless, it had come from him. The confession came straight off his own tongue. Arthur was the murderer, and he had no remorse.

The whole time, you were acutely aware of the gun held against your back. It was slightly warm from being kept against Arthur’s body. You weren’t sure you understood what emotion you were experiencing. Fear would be a likely candidate, but to your surprise, you weren’t scared. It was similar to a rush, a thrill. Your chest felt tight and your mind raced. You were paralyzed, too astonished to speak.

This lack of physical reaction worried Arthur. His legs began to bounce beneath you. “Are you mad?” he asked, voice cracking, lacking the conceit from mere seconds before.

Were you mad? No, not particularly. You were a lot of things, but you weren’t upset. After a deep breath, you shook your head.

“No, Artie… I promise I’m not mad.”

He cast his eyes downward. No longer able to look at you directly. “Are you afraid of me?” he asked.

It pained you to hear him ask that. When you thought of Arthur, the first words were _sweet_ and _gentle_. He had never been anything but tender to you. He even possessed an almost childlike innocence about him at times. You reached up, touching his cheek. Through his lashes, he caught your eyes. God, those eyes weren’t one of a killer. Yeah, he _was_ a killer. You _knew_ he was, but… but he was so much more. To you, he was more.

“Of course not.”

Truth be told, the only thing that frightened you about him were your feelings towards him. It surprised you how calm you sounded- how calm you were in general. Moments ago, you were on the verge of hysteria. You were damn near about to collapse when he pulled out that gun. Then he confirmed your fears, and fears they were no more.

“Do you still want to be my friend?”

“Oh, Artie…” You should’ve been repulsed, disgusted, terrified. You should’ve panicked or screamed for help or dialed the police. But you didn’t. You weren’t planning on it either. He took the lives of three men, but all you could focus on was how alive he made you feel. He was the first, the _only_ to bring meaning to your life. You realized you’d gladly give that life for him. The comfort he brought couldn’t be diminished. Deep within your chest, you knew that nothing in this world could take away the feelings that you felt for him. You’d follow him into madness. You take his hand, even if it led you straight to hell. Whether he asked that of you or not, you knew you would. “Can’t you see I want to be so much more?”

To be honest, it was startling. You still barely knew each other. Arthur couldn’t wrap his head around why you acted the way you did when it came to him. With brows furrowed, tears in his eyes, he vocalized it.

“I don’t understand you,” said Arthur, punctuated with nervous chuckles. “Why? What makes you want to do that?”

“Because I love you.”

Oh, _God_. Your face paled when you realized what had just come out of your mouth. That word had been floating around in your head since that night back from the pharmacy. You felt it die at his door and resurrect at yours that night he killed those men. You had tried to suppress it, not wanting to scare him off or have him turn you away again. Emotions were so raw in that moment, everything was so honest, it just slipped before you had a chance to think better of it.

Of all the blows Arthur endured in his lifetime, this one hit the hardest. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs. He couldn’t believe his ears. You didn’t say that. You especially didn’t say that to _him_. It hurt. It hurt hearing you say such sweet things. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve to be deceived by another woman he cared about. He brought the gun to your shoulder. Out of your peripheral vision, you could see it and your adrenaline soared.

“Don’t lie to me,” Arthur managed to say though his chest ached with hurt and laughter. His hands were trembling, his finger brushed the trigger. “ _Please._ Don’t lie to me. I’ve had all I can take.”

Your heart revved. You could be next. He could end your life or his or _both_ right then if he wasn’t satisfied with your answer, no matter how true. In a split second, you decided it would be worth it. Without him, you believed you’d be better off dead. You were serious. You would show him how serious. Your own hand came up, resting atop his own on the pistol. 

“Arthur.” You leaned forward, inches from his face. Fingers intertwined with his, and you brought the gun to your temple. “I’ve never been more honest in my entire fucking life. I’m crazy about you. I really, truly love you.”

Gritting your teeth, you prepared yourself for the impact that never came. Instead, his grip on the gun loosened under your palm. He lowered it away from you, but you guided it between the two of you.

“I mean it,” you said. You had the gun aimed at your chest. Gazing straight into those dazzling green eyes of his, you reiterated. “Cross my heart and hope to die. I’m in love with you.”

Your voice was strong and clear. Arthur’s smile returned, bigger and brighter than it had ever been. He yanked the gun away from you and tossed it to the side. Arms coiled tighter around your body. You swore you could feel him grow hard beneath your thighs. You bit your lip, shifting in his lap to ensure you weren’t imagining things. Sure enough, you had given him an erection.

“Say it,” he breathed. “Say that again for me… Please.”

“I’m in love with _you_ , Arthur Fleck.”

Your name rose from his throat as a groan before he smashed his lips to yours. His hands ended up in your hair, gripping it and holding you to his hungry mouth. You pressed further, kissing him more deeply. With one hand in his hair and the other on his back, you held onto him as tight as he held you. You felt something damp brush against your cheek, and you cracked an eyelid to notice the tears rolling down his face. Arthur was crying.

He pulled back, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Though the teardrops streamed his cheeks, his smile was stretched wide.

“Something wrong?” You brushed back his hair. “Are you okay?”

“I’m sorry… It’s… Nothing’s wrong. It’s just funny.” He alternated between sniffling and snickering. He kept trying to choke it down so he could speak. “I- haha, I didn’t imagine it like this.”

“Imagine what?”

“Love!” Arthur was in hysterics now. His hands landed on your cheeks and he kissed you again through his giggles. It felt so silly, being kissed by a laughing man. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing along with him.


	9. Chapter 9

At some point amidst the passion, you ended up pinned beneath Arthur on your couch. The playful giggles, tickles, and smooches subsided, leaving the two of you just gazing at each other.

Arthur took that speechless moment to observe you. His eyes skimmed over your features, taking note of how happy you seemed. The way you looked right now, with a natural blush dusting your cheeks, your smile wide, and your eyes brimming with tears of laughter, was stunning. You were beautiful, so much more attractive than he had ever seen. It was difficult to accept you were the same girl who broke down with him in the elevator not so long ago. He wanted to believe you had done the same for him, that _maybe_ love could make him better too.

“I’m so glad… so glad you told me,” he whispered before pressing his lips to yours again. “I’m glad you love me.” He wanted to deserve your love, to make certain you didn’t regret wasting your love on him. He wanted to keep you happy. He never wanted your smile to fade.

Arthur’s fingers slipped beneath the fabric of your panties and felt around for that spot you showed him before. The way you arched back into the cushions and your sharp intake of breath had him feeling confident in his ministrations. It was so lewd, the way your juices coated his fingertips. You were so hot and wet, so ready for _him_. It struck him with awe- _he_ did this to you. This was proof of your attraction to _him_. He could just kiss you again. He swore he could just kiss your whole body.

His lips curled into a grin. That wasn’t a terrible idea.

Thinking back to those dirty movies he’d seen, the ladies liked it a lot when they got kissed between the legs. He wouldn’t mind doing that to you. He loved you so much, he’d kiss you there no matter how strange or silly it seemed. He eased back onto his knees, using the fingers he had been pleasuring you with to pull your panties down.

Arthur hadn’t been much for foreplay the past two times you slept together. Thinking he was ready enter you, you expected him to pull down his own pants. You chewed your lip and prepared for penetration. However, he surprised you by lowering his face down to your sex.

“ _Ah_ -Art!” you squeaked, caught completely off guard. Pushing him away and snapping your legs shut, you squirmed upright onto the armrest. Absolutely flustered, your cheeks turned fuchsia. “What’s all this?”

Lifting his head, he tilted it to the side. “I saw it in a movie,” he explained, gazing deep into your eyes. A genuine smile tugged at his lips. “I thought I could make you happy like they were by, um… doing that.”

“ _Oh_...” Your poor ribcage was taking a beating from your pounding heart. The way his eyes sparkled with sincerity sent your pulse racing. God, he was adorable! You had encountered a lot of men but you had _never_ come across one so enthusiastic when it came to pleasing. You’d take an eager amateur over an expert any day.

Arthur frowned and sat up at your simple reply. Had he done something wrong? “Do… do women not like it?”

“No, no! We _love_ it!” you assured him. “Just not something I expected out of you.”

“Why not?”

“Didn’t know you knew about it.” This was, what, his third time having sexual relations? You weren’t sure what kind of flicks he was into. Yet if they were teaching him how to go down on a woman, you certainly weren’t going to complain. Settling back down, you parted your legs just enough to invite him back. “Show me what you’ve seen.”

A smug-sounding snicker came from Arthur, accompanied with an equally cocky smirk. Placing his hands on your knees, he pried your legs apart and allowed his head to dip between them. With a deep inhale to settle his nerves, he ended up filling his lungs your feminine musk. The sweet scent of your body was enough to send his eyes fluttering back. His head grew light, his senses both dulled and heightened. Once or twice in his life, he had been drunk. The sensation was not unlike this, yet you were far more intoxicating. He could drink in all of you without ever getting sick.

Soft and tender, he pressed a kiss to your core. The featherlight brush of his lips against you shrouded your skin in goosebumps. You sighed, your body going lax beneath him. Satisfied with your reaction, Arthur separated your thighs further and planted another kiss. One of his hands joined in; fingers parted your folds to grant him better access. He mouthed you as gently as if he were kissing your face.

“Mm… Your tongue, Artie,” you instructed, tucking his curls behind his ear. You were impressed so far. Arthur had a decent idea of what he needed to focus on, but he could still use some guidance. You felt comfortable enough to lead him in the right direction without worry of offending him. “Use your tongue, too.”

Knitting his brows, Arthur stuck his tongue out. Admittedly, he hadn’t paid much attention to what was happening during those scenes. By the time the ladies began to moan he was either already finished or feeling too ashamed to continue. Trusting that you were the more knowledgeable out of the pair, he experimentally traced your slit with his tongue. His eyes flicked up to you, unsure if that’s what you were seeking.

You nodded in approval, absently stroking his temple with your thumb. “Go ahead…” you urged. “Do that some more.”

Good. He was hungry for more, hungry for you. The tangy taste of your sex was unlike he imagined it, but not unpleasant. Out of curiosity, he had tasted his own before. Yours was far less repulsive. For you, it wouldn’t take much for him to get used to it.

“So good, baby. You’re doing so good at this.”

Your smooth voice paired with soothing compliments encouraged him. He took a chance and became more experimental. He brought his mouth to that special place of yours.

“ _Oh_!” you shuddered, bucking against him the moment he dragged his tongue across it. He licked it again, smiling as he felt it stiffen. “Ah-Arthur, please! Please, _please_ , baby! Keep doing _that_!”

Arthur huffed in amusement. The warmth of his breath against you had you writhing beneath him. He tongued your clit once more, then lowered his lips to suck at it.

 _“Fuck_!” Your knuckles turned white from the grip you had on his hair. You rolled your hips against his mouth. “Ooh God, _yes_ … Arthur! You’re _incredible_ …”

Though you were a little rough with him, he didn’t mind. In fact, he found himself enjoying it. He knew you didn’t mean it. You weren’t trying to hurt him. There was something thrilling about having his hair tugged and his mouth rutted against. He was hard before, now his arousal was throbbing. It was nice to be used like this. This was his purpose, to bring joy, and he relished every second of how he brought it to you.

Each noise you made excited him further. Arthur felt the pool of precum smearing inside the fabric of his undergarments. In the back of his thoughts, he knew he was close. He was aware he wouldn’t last much longer. Stopping was never considered, though it was doubtful he’d be able to break free of the hold you had on him if he did want to stop.

“Oh, Art… Arthur, baby, I’m so close… Fuck, I’m almost there…”

Arthur continued to draw soft moans from your throat. Hearing you call for him had him on the verge of climax as well. Though his jaw ached and his tongue was becoming numb, the way you sobbed his name gave him the resolve to power through.

“I-I’m… I’m gonna cum…”

He didn’t ease up upon hearing your warning. Your thighs clenched around his head, your toes curled and heels dug into his back.

“ _Arthur_!”

Your breathing seized. With your hands buried in the thickness of his curls, your hips arched and you came against his mouth. The intensity of your release overwhelmed Arthur. Through the ringing of his ears, he could hear you choking back delighted sobs and his own noisy slurps as he lapped at your flowing juices. Never in a million years had he ever imagined he’d be making a lover squeal his name like that. This was so much more erotic than his fantasies. Arthur didn’t even have to be touched. Pleasuring you was more than enough to send him over the edge. Before he even had a chance to process the moment, his cock was spurting inside the confines of his briefs right as your climax began to wane.

Arthur didn’t get the pleasure of enjoying his afterglow. Feeling the sticky, rapidly-cooling cum between his legs ruined any chance of that. He couldn’t believe he had done that. You seemed to think so highly of him, for some reason, but what would you think about that? Anxiety gnawed at him with the thought of you laughing at him for being so inexperienced, for having such a hair-trigger arousal. He tried not to draw your attention as he lifted himself away from you. He hoped you would maybe be drowsy enough to doze off so he could sneak out. However, you sat up and snuggled up to him.

“Arthur…” You kissed his cheek, then rested against his chest. His heart felt heavy with your head so close to it. “Oh God, that was amazing…”

Your praise did little to take away how filthy he felt. Shame crept up as your hand rested on his thigh and threatened to move upwards.

“Fuck. I’ve never had anyone take my breath away like you do,” you said. “You deserve to have the favor returned.”

That whisper caused him to panic. Arthur gripped your wrist to prevent you from going any further.

Realizing the sternness of that action, he quickly sputtered. “You really don’t have to! You… you’ve done so much for me. And I-I… I should probably go anyway…”

“Aww… _Already_?” Frowning, you cuddled up closer to him. “I mean, it’s still pretty early. Neither of us have to work this morning. You don’t look like you got much sleep last night.”

Arthur sighed. “I didn’t.”

“C’mon then! You should come back to bed with me,” you urged, but the playfulness wasn’t shared.

Something seemed off. The reluctance was palpable. You eased off of him, worried that perhaps you had come on a little too strong. You really did want him to stick around. His company was all you craved. “…Please? We don’t have to fool around at all,” you assured him. “A nap wouldn’t hurt either of us. And then I can show you Wayne Manor later on, like I promised.”

All that sounded so much better than being back in his apartment. Arthur wanted nothing more than to spend more time with you. You were breaking his resolve. You were going to sway him into staying. However, he couldn’t lay with you like this. It was uncomfortable. He was disgusted by himself. You would probably be disgusted, too. Another shaky sigh escaped him. “I made a mess.”

“Hm?” At first, you had no clue what he was talking about. You wondered if he was referring to a figurative mess- the mess of murdering those men, of getting involved with you or the Thomas Wayne mess, something along those lines. But then you glanced down, noticing the wet patch on the front of his pants. You didn’t mean to stare, but it took you a moment to process what he had done. Each second your eyes lingered, he felt more insecure. A hand darted to cover himself, and he scooted away from your embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. He was mortified now. “I should leave.”

“Hey.” You reached out to touch his face, getting him to focus on you. “If you’re worried about that, it’s nothing. Honest, you shouldn’t be embarrassed. It’s only natural. I’m sure the same would happen to me if I went down on you.”

That brought a smile out of him. You always knew what to say to make him feel like less of a fool. Every time you looked in his eyes so sincerely, he wondered why he ever suspected otherwise.

“Besides, you don’t want to walk back like that, do you?” you asked.

Arthur’s face paled. That wasn’t something he considered. It was still early, but more people were awake by this point. The hallways would be the slightest bit more populated as tenants left to start their day. None of them were ever as understanding as you. He shook his head in response.

“Let’s clean them, then. We can leave them on the vent and have them dry while we take a nap. Sound good?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” After patting his thigh, you rose from the couch. However, your legs were gelatin from how hard he had just eaten you out. You nearly toppled over, but he shot up to steady you just in time.

“You really are falling for me, aren’t you?” Arthur teased as he held you up.

You blushed. “Oh, _hush_ …”


End file.
